Boy Done Wrong
by LyricalKris
Summary: Two boys from two very different, very broken families. Dean hid a secret pain behind a sarcastic grin and a devil-may-care attitude. Castiel didn't know a life outside obedience. Some people you meet will change your life. It's the very good or the very bad ones that change you.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welp. I promised myself I wouldn't do this, but I should know better than to think I can keep that promise... so let's see how this goes. *Bites nails***

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. I wish I did coz zomg, I could hang out with Jensen and Misha and ... everyone, but I don't.**

* * *

_**~Dean~**_

Sammy had been missing for three days.

It wasn't so unusual for Sam to take off. He was thirteen and an all around angry young man. Whenever he would get hot around the collar, he would typically go over to his best friend's house until he cooled off. Dean didn't like Brady, so he always tried to let Sam wander back on his own. Anyway, Sam was at that stage where no one could tell him what to do.

But one night had turned into two, and Sam didn't answer his phone. Dean started to get nervous. By the time he made it over to Brady's house, the way the snot-nosed thirteen-year-old sneered at him when he said he hadn't seen Sam either didn't bother Dean. Nothing registered for him except the growing panic in his gut.

.

"I hope he ran away," Brady said. "Anything would be better than staying with your prick father."

Under normal circumstances, Dean would have had the kid by the collar, shoved up against the wall. No one insulted John Winchester in his presence. Yeah, it was true John had left his boys for long stretches at a time, but he was trying to provide. It was true he pushed Sam maybe a little too hard, but it was because he wanted what was best for the kid. Their mother had died when Sam was a baby, and John had to go it on his own. He did the best he could.

But that day, Dean let it slide. As soon as he got confirmation Sam wasn't with Brady, he was back in the Impala and out on the road.

Another day passed, and Dean had no idea where Sam was. Dean was going out of his mind. If his friends knew where he was, they weren't talking. Dean was more inclined to think they were telling the truth as a couple of them seemed worried. His girlfriend Stephanie freaked right the fuck out. He had to peel her off his arm to get away from her long enough to continue his search on his own.

All for nothing.

Flagstaff, Arizona wasn't a huge town, but it might as well have been the size of Los Angeles. There were endless places Sam could have been, and he was nowhere Dean looked. He didn't want to start thinking about the thick ponderosa pine forest that surrounded the city. Sam had no reason to go there, none.

Right?

A key turning in the lock drew Dean's attention. He darted to the door and flung it open, ready to hug Sam before he throttled the kid. But it wasn't Sam at the door.

Dean's throat got tight, his heart began to race, and he broke out in a cold sweat. He stumbled backward a few steps. "D-dad?" He swallowed hard, curling his fingers into fists as he tried to still his trembling. "I thought... You were supposed to be home tomorrow."

John Winchester furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at his eldest son. "I got done early. Is that a problem?"

"No, sir," Dean mumbled to the floor. He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Where's your brother?"

Dean's mouth went dry. He took another step backward. Inwardly, he was cursing himself. How could he have been so stupid? He'd gone out with Lisa when he knew Sam was already pissy. He should have guessed Sam would run off. And he should have gone after him that night. He should have.

"Dean."

Dean looked up at his father.

"Where is your brother? It's late. He should be home."

"I... He's not here." Fear raced down Dean's spine with the admission. Today, searching the whole town for his brother, realizing he wasn't anywhere safe, had already been the worst day of Dean's life.

It wasn't going to get better because Dad was home. It had been a very long time since his daddy could make it all better.

John took a step forward. "What do you mean he's not here? Where is he, Dean?"

"I don't know."

"Speak up. I can't hear you when you mumble."

Dean closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. "I don't know. He's not here. I don't know where he is. He... He hasn't been home for days." He mumbled and stumbled, but he managed to tell his father the whole story.

"Are you insane?!" John grabbed him by his jacket and shook him. Hard. "What is wrong with you? You had one job, Dean, one. The only thing I ask of you is to look out for your little brother. What the hell is so difficult about that?" He pushed Dean away, sending him flying back against the wall. Dean crumpled in a heap at his feet, and John towered over him, his fists clenched.

"Do you have any idea what could happen to a kid like him out there alone?" John yelled. "Some sicko could have him right now, you realize that? They could be doing anything to him right now because you couldn't do the one thing I asked you to."

It wasn't anything Dean hadn't been telling himself for the last two days. Any horrible scenario John could come up with, Dean was sure he'd already imagined it. In detail. He felt sick and wrong and so guilty.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he said. "I'm sorry." Over and over again.

It was almost a relief when John started hitting him. It was exactly what he deserved.

_**~Castiel~**_

When Castiel was very young, he idolized his elder brothers and his father. When he was born, his brothers were 12,13,14, and 16. Gabriel, Raphael, Luc, and Michael had always been adults in his world, and when he was a little boy, their word was almost as gospel as their father's.

But then, after the baby, Samandriel, was born, everything changed. Dad, who'd spent much time away doing charity work for Doctors Without Borders, went missing, never to been seen again. It had left their mother, Naomi, reeling. In the interim, Luc and Michael nearly broke up the family with their constant bickering, Gabriel ran away, and Raphael declared himself the new head of the family.

And here they were in Flagstaff, AZ.

After her husband's apparent death, Naomi reinvented herself. Castiel couldn't blame his mother, really. She'd been with his father since she was seventeen - Castiel's age now. She knew nothing but how to manage her brood. Finding herself single for the first time in her adult life, Naomi returned to school and then immersed herself in work. In his heart of hearts, Castiel knew she hadn't become such an absent mother on purpose. It was a gradual change but a change nonetheless. Most of the burden of raising Castiel and Samandriel fell on Raphael.

Like their father, Raphael ruled with an iron fist and demanded absolute obedience, but he lacked compassion and empathy. More and more, Castiel found himself at odds with his elder brother.

"Castiel."

Castiel paused with his hand on the doorknob. He didn't look at his brother, but he stood very still waiting for the next command.

"Where are you going?"

"Out." He doubted Raphael really cared where he was going.

His brother nodded and turned his attention back to his laptop. "Walk Samandriel to his friend's house, and you may go."

Castiel bit the inside of his cheek. He wanted to snap that he was seventeen and not a child. He didn't need Raphael's permission to go where he pleased. Their mother certainly wouldn't care. She wouldn't be home from work until long after Castiel went to bed. Samandriel's friend's house was in the opposite direction Castiel was headed. And further, Samandriel was twelve. He could walk to his friend's house on his own at that age.

But he knew from experience his words would do no good. If he challenged Raphael, his brother would prove just how little control Castiel had over his own life. Rather than say a word, he headed upstairs to collect Samandriel.

"Come on, Sammy. Let's get out of here."

His sandy-haired brother offered him a bright smile. He was innocent for his age, perhaps too innocent. Castiel slung a protective arm around him as they headed for the door.

"Castiel," Raphael called before they were away. "Remember you need to be home by nine to pick Samandriel up."

Castiel bristled and clenched his fist at his side.

"Mrs. Milton said she'd bring me home, Raphael. Cas doesn't have to come get me."

Raphael stared for a long second, but then he grunted. "Fine. Don't be trouble. Either of you."

"We won't," Samandriel called over his shoulder as he and Castiel descended the steps.

As they walked, Samandriel chattered on in his usual bright way. He always made Castiel smile. Again, Castiel reflected that his little brother was far too innocent for his age. They would be starting public school for the first time in another month, and while he wasn't concerned for himself, he was afraid Samandriel would be overwhelmed. Or teased. Or both. Probably both.

Still, he had already made one friend in Anna Milton, which was more than Castiel could say for himself. Come to think of it, his whole family was bad at making friends. Except Gabriel. Castiel had had occasion to visit Gabriel in New York City the year before. In the five days Castiel was there, Gabriel was always with different people.

Before Samandriel darted up the walk to Anna's house, he gave Castiel a hug goodbye.

There were, Castiel thought, some good things to say about lingering innocence.

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to EverdayBella and songster for their help and enabling... I mean encouragement. See you soon!**


	2. Riding in Cars With Boys

_**~Four Weeks Later~**_

"Sammy! Where the hell are you? We're going to be late."

"I'm not going to be late, you are," Sam said, as he pounded down the stairs with a scowl on his face. "I told you, I can take the bus. Who wants to be seen in the piece of crap Impala, anyway?"

Dean pointed at his brother in warning. "I'm going to let that one slide because we need to get the heck out of here. Come on."

"I can take the bus."

"Dammit. Can we not do this today? You're not going to take the bus."

"Why not?"

"Because you're a goddamn flight risk, okay? You can't disappear on my watch again, Sammy. You can't."

Sam's glare was withering. "You think I can't just walk right off campus if that's what I want to do?"

"Sam-"

"I'm not going to do it."

"Glad that's settled. Let's go."

"I'm going to-"

"Sam. Car. Now."

Sam's eyes narrowed. He shoved the front door open, and Dean winced when he heard the Impala's passenger side door slam shut hard. He clenched his fists at his side. Nothing got him worked up quicker than the idea of his baby being harmed, and Sam knew it. Dean counted to ten before he went to join his brother in the car.

They drove in silence to the middle school, and Sam got out almost before Dean had a chance to stop. Dean toyed with the idea of rolling down the window to shout something embarrassing after him - that would show him - but Sam was already across the lawn. As Dean watched, a brunette girl in a skirt that could not be dress code appropriate ran at him. She jumped, and he caught her. Their tongues were down each other's throats in the next second.

"Ew." Dean shook his head hard. "What the heck happened to Stephanie?"

The new girl was pretty, he had to give Sam that, but she made him uncomfortable. "Ah now, that's just unsettling," he said out loud as the brunette went for Sam's neck. Christ, they were overdoing it. A few others approached the amorous couple, none of whom Dean recognized. There was a blond dressed similarly to the brunette girl, and a couple of boys.

These were not Sam's usual group of friends.

Dean jumped when the car behind him honked. He raised his hand in the mirror. "Yeah, yeah. I'm sure you've got somewhere important to be, Tiger Mommy," he muttered to himself. With one last glance at Sam's posse, Dean got back out on the road.

Sam didn't always make the wisest friend choices, and that concerned Dean. Brady was just the tip of the iceberg. He was an annoying asshat, but the others that had gathered around Sam... they looked like they were up to no good.

Dean shook his head at himself. They were thirteen and fourteen year olds. How bad could they be?

He was distracted when he passed the elementary school and saw a dude from his English class waving goodbye to a sandy-haired kid that didn't look so much younger than Sam. The guy was new to town. Dean knew this because their English teacher did that stupid thing where everyone had to say their name, where they were from, and something about themselves.

Dean remembered the dude because he'd been stiff and intense... and his name was really, really weird. Cassiel? Something like that?

"Dude's gonna be so late," Dean said to himself as he watched Cassiel start to walk in the direction of the high school. He tapped out a beat on the steering wheel, hesitating a moment before he shrugged to himself. He pulled over ahead of the guy, and reached across to put the window down. "Hey!" The kid kept his head down, about to walk by. "Hey, uh... Cassi... Cas!"

Cas stopped. He kept his body facing forward as he looked at Dean. Rather than answer, he merely tilted his head, staring at Dean with curiosity in his eyes.

Dean was thrown by the way the other kid's blue eyes pinned him. For reasons Dean couldn't fathom, the whole situation felt awkward. "Hey, uh... you want a ride."

"A ride?"

"Yeah." Dean resisted the urge to squirm. What the hell? "To school. You know, in my car?"

"That's a kind offer," the other boy said. His voice was deep and steady, lacking inflection. "Thank you."

For a second, Dean thought the kid was just going to keep on walking forward but then he stepped up to the car and got inside. Dean checked the mirrors and pulled back out onto the street.

"So I'm-"

"Dean Winchester from Lawrence, Kansas originally. You hate Jefferson Starship." Dean could feel the boy's eyes on him. "That's strange, isn't it? That you think the most interesting thing about yourself is what you hate?"

Dean balked. He wasn't sure what to make of that statement. It was clear this guy wasn't intentionally trying to start shit. He was just... weird. "It was improv, man. That's just what came out." He shrugged and glanced at Cas with his usual grin. "You can't put everything interesting about me in one sentence."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cas's lips turn up just slightly. "I suppose that must be true. I'm Castiel Novak, by the way, but you probably knew that seeing as you knew my name."

"Well, I remembered you were a Cas." Dean laughed. "No offense, man, but that's a crazy ass name."

"Well, my oldest brother was named Michael, which was normal enough, but then my parents adopted Luc, which is short for Lucifer."

Dean started. "Lucifer? Like the devil?"

"From what I understand, his birth parents were..." His eyes darted to Dean and back. "Er, fucked up."

Dean had to smile because it was obvious the guy was trying to fit in, and cursing wasn't his forte. "So why didn't your parents rename him when they adopted him?"

"They said Lucifer was a fallen angel and every soul began beautiful. So they kept his name, and named the rest of their children after angels."

"Castiel is an angel?"

"Not in Judeo-Christian mythology. Sachiel. Castiel. Asasiel. Angels of Jupiter or the angels of Thursday, if you prefer."

"Jesus."

"No. None of my brothers are named Jesus, and Jesus was not an angel."

Dean stopped at a red light and stared at Cas. "You're fucking with me," he realized out loud when he saw a smirk playing at the other boy's lips.

"Well, yes and no. Jesus really isn't one of my brothers, but I knew you weren't insinuating that."

Dean huffed and then laughed. This dude was throwing him for a loop. "How many brothers do you have?"

"Five. Michael, Luc, Raphael, Gabriel, and my younger brother is Samandriel."

"Sa- what?"

"Samandriel. Angel of creativity and vivid imagination. Again, not in the Judeo-Christian canon, but there you have it."

"Samandriel. Christ, he must have a hard time in school."

"He tells everyone to call him Sam, but I call him Sammy."

Dean had to smile. "My little brother is a Sammy too. None of this Samandriel stuff, though. His name is just Samuel. We were named after our mother's parents."

"Dean and Samantha?"

"Samuel and Deanna," Dean admitted. He waited for the inevitable teasing.

"That's nice," was all Cas said.

They had arrived at their school, Sinagua High, by then. Cas got out as soon as the car was stopped. "Thank you very much for the ride. Ms. Harvelle is never pleased when someone comes late."

Dean snorted. "Tell me about it. I'm friends with her daughter. You should see her at home."

Cas just nodded. "Thank you," he said again, and then he was walking away without a backward glance.

For a few seconds, Dean watched him retreat. "Weird dude," he said to himself before he headed off to his first class alone.

_**~0~**_

Castiel glanced around the parking lot as he descended the steps in front of the school. Across the lot, he saw Dean leaning up against his car, talking with a duo of cheerleaders. His hands were shoved deep in the leather jacket he wore and his grin was blinding.

Those girls were gone. Even from across the lot, Castiel could tell. They were doing that thing where they swayed on their feet, getting closer to Dean with each pass, and they twirled a lock of their hair around and around their fingers.

If nothing else, the first two weeks Castiel had ever spent in public school had proved an interesting study in people watching.

He remembered that morning when Dean had looked at him briefly the way he was looking at those girls, with that smile.

As he walked out to the sidewalk, Castiel's attention was drawn by a honking horn.

"Cassy, oh, Cassy."

Castiel turned as a familiar car pulled up beside him. "Balthazar. I asked you not to call me that."

Balthazar - five years older than Castiel and ever-mischievous - winked at him. "And as you can see, I'm ignoring your request. Now get in this car, Cassy, or I'll just have to drag you. Don't make me do that. It would make me look like a pedophile dragging off an innocent little boy."

Castiel made a face at him. "I have to pick up my brother."

The man waved his hand. "Sammy knows the way home." He rolled his eyes when Castiel only continued to glare at him. "Fine. We'll pick him up in, what, half an hour? Then we'll drop him safely home and go have some fun."

Castiel knew from experience Balthazar was stubborn when he wanted something and too convincing. It had been a few weeks since Castiel had gone out at all. Balthazar was one of only a small handful of friends he had. Like Castiel, he'd been home schooled most of his life. In just the last few years he'd changed a lot. He'd shaken off his strict upbringing and had gone wild. Castiel always thought he and Gabriel would get along famously, which meant Castiel got endless amounts of crap from Raphael whenever he spent time with Balthazar. Raphael seemed to think he was a bad influence.

"Smoke?" Balthazar offered Castiel a cigarette.

Maybe Raphael was right. "No, thank you."

_**~0~**_

As promised, Balthazar picked up Samandriel and dropped him off safely at home before absconding with Castiel.

Balthazar was a trust fund baby who had been born in England and maintained his English accent more to pick up guys and gals than anything else. He'd lived in Flagstaff for at least eight years, and he lapsed into an American accent when the mood suited him. He had a huge house all to himself equipped with every toy imaginable. Despite his wealth and his more recent flippant attitude, Castiel genuinely enjoyed his company. They'd known each other since Castiel was ten and Balthazar fifteen.

"You remember how pissed I was at summer camp?" Balthazar chuckled. "Of course I would get stuck with the scrawny little nothing. But then you proved yourself. Who would have thought this scrappy warrior would be so good at tactics. Remember? Capture the flag? The look on the other's faces when this little thing comes barreling at them with a war whoop."

Castiel smiled and ducked his head. "That was fun."

"And now look at you." Balthazar leaned his head on his hand. "You might be what some would consider a little bit handsome, Cas. So tell me. You're in school now. Have you met any pretty girls."

"I've met a number of pretty girls." Castiel knew what Balthazar was getting at, and he was being purposefully obtuse.

Balthazar quirked an eyebrow. "And pretty boys?"

"In my experience, boys don't like it when you call them pretty."

"I can never tell if you're being coy, Cassy." He pursed his lips. "You're going to kill them, kid, when you figure out how to wield that natural sex appeal you have. Are you sure you won't let me take you barhopping? You could be knee deep in pussy."

"I'm fine."

Balthazar fixed him with a knowing expression. "If you prefer swinging the other way-"

"I said I'm fine."

Balthazar closed the distance between them on the couch and began to massage Castiel's shoulders. "Relax, darling, relax. You could do with a good fuck. Does wonders to improve foul tempers like yours."

Castiel shrugged his shoulders to knock Balthazar's hands away.

"Okay, okay. Just remember, if you take the stick out of your ass, it makes room for much more pleasant things." He winked, and then laughed when Castiel just frowned. He scooted away from him just slightly and threw him the second controller for his XBox.

When he'd gotten Castiel distracted with war game tactics, Balthazar started in again. "So really. Have you made any friends?"

Castiel would have said he sounded like his mother, but Naomi wouldn't have asked. "Another student from my English class gave me a ride to school when he saw I was running late today. Does that count?"

Balthazar paused the game, ignoring Castiel's protests. "A boy picked you up on the side of the road? Tell me more."

"His name is Dean Winchester. He's from Kansas, and he hates Jefferson Starship." He lunged for Balthazar's controller and managed to wrestle it away from him to start the game again. "He also has a little brother named Sam."

"Hell!" Balthazar clicked furiously on his controller, trying to gain the upper hand again. "But is he hot. That's the only important question. Did a hot boy pick you up this morning, and is he going to do it again?"

Castiel didn't answer right away, focused as he was on the game. Tactics took some thought, after all. "I overheard this girl, Lisa, talking about him. She said she wished there was a poster of him in Tiger Beat."

"So he is pretty." Balthazar paused a beat. "Is he single?"

Castiel knew damn well Balthazar was a flirt so why his stomach twisted and irritation shot up his spine, he couldn't figure. "He's not your type," he said too quickly.

He could feel Balthazar's eyes on him. "Is he _your_ type?"

Castiel was startled enough that Balthazar was able to get the jump on him. He growled and redoubled his efforts. "You're not _his_ type." He remembered the way Dean grinned at the girls this afternoon.

"I see," Balthazar said in a quiet tone that made Castiel wonder just what he saw.

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to everydaybella, barburella, and songster for their help.**


	3. Hot Head

**A/N: Halo, duckies. *holds your hands***

* * *

Sam was just plain talented, Dean decided. He'd thought Brady was a snotty little shit, but Sam's new friends were a whole other level of pain in the ass.

"Hey. Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber." Dean snapped his fingers in front of the two brain donors with their muddy boots all over the couch and coffee table. Andrew and Jake, if he remembered correctly. As far as he was concerned, Douche #1 and #2 were probably better names. "You wanna quit trashing my house long enough to tell me where my brother is?"

The two teenage punks looked at each other before they looked at him. "Who are you, his mommy?"

"Hey. Brain donors. How's about you just tell me where Sam is, and maybe I won't make you a knuckle sandwich to go with _my_ cokes and jerky."

They snickered at him. "I don't know, man," Tweedle Dumb said. "He's probably balls deep in Ruby by now."

Dean shuddered. He kicked the coffee table out from under their feet before he went in search of Sam. The boys were probably all bluster, but Dean didn't want to risk it. Sam wasn't making the best choices lately, and if he knocked a girl up, well that would just be Dean's luck.

When he was sure Sam wasn't in the house, Dean headed into the woods. The previous owners had not cleaned up some of the left over beams and roofing framework from when they'd added the second story to the house. When their father first moved them here, having a backyard littered with the remains of construction and open to the forest had been a little boy's heaven. They'd spent hours climbing trees and having wars in the woods.

Now, Dean crept quietly across the dry pine needle floor. He could hear Sam's voice somewhere in the middle of the mess of framing.

"Come on, Ruby. I already told you I don't want to touch that stuff."

"Don't be a baby, baby. You'll like it. Don't you trust me?"

_Oh, hell no._ Dean was about to step in and start cracking skulls - he didn't give a damn if Ruby was a girl, no one was going to get his baby brother into something stupid- but Sam spoke again before he could get involved.

"I said no. I tried that other stuff you brought by before, the one you said would make it easier to get through my homework? Well, it made it a thousand times harder. I couldn't concentrate at all. No, thanks."

"It's _supposed _to relax you."

"Not being able to think clearly is not relaxing for me. You know I don't care what makes you happy. Whatever. But it doesn't make me happy."

"Okay, okay, I get it. Spoilsport." There was a wet smacking sound, and Dean grimaced. They were making out again. "But you're still going to do the other thing, right? For me."

"You mean for Azazel."

_Azazel. What the fuck?_

"For _me,_" Ruby said again. Dean heard another kiss. "Please, Sam. Please."

_Oh, brother._

Sam sighed. "You're sure it's nothing bad, Ruby? Azazel gives me the creeps."

"He likes to pretend he's tough, but he's nothing. Come on, Sam. This is Flagstaff. How much shady shit do you think is going down here?"

"Then why don't you take the thing?"

"I told you. I have cheerleading practice after school, and the kid needs his bag."

"What the hell is Azazel doing that he can't run it down to the high school himself?"

"He has work. Sam. Just please."

Dean didn't like the sound of that. He knew what it sounded like, and he didn't want Sam involved in any of it. His thoughts zipped around his head, his fists tensed at his side, ready for action. What he wanted to do was grab Sam, get him the hell away from Ruby, and maybe beat some sense into the kid. But no. No, he had to be smart about this.

If Sam ran away again...

No. He had to play this the right way. If Sam was getting into something bad and Dean confronted him, it would be them he went running to. No. It wasn't going to happen. Not on Dean's watch.

He had a bag for some kid. Well, Dean was going to find that damn bag and make sure it didn't get delivered. At least, not by Sam.

_**~0~**_

"I'm gonna rip his lungs out!"

"I don't understand why you're doing this to me." Sam was in a state. He was pacing and... scared. Sam was scared. "You have to give me the bag, Dean. You have to give it to me. You don't understand. Azazel is on his way here and he's pissed."

"You saw what was in the bag, Sammy. You saw. Do you get what's happening here? Do you understand? He was using you to deal drugs. Are you fucking kidding me with this?"

Sam had gone to give the bag Azazel had left in his possession to a kid at Sinagua's rival school, but when the kid took it, he found it was full of porn instead of drugs. Man on man porn. Graphic man on man porn. He'd tried to beat on Sam but Dean had been waiting. He pulled Sammy away while the belligerent high school kid had screamed about how it was all bullshit and he was going to make trouble for Azazel.

"I didn't know, Dean. I really didn't know what was in the bag. Azazel and Ruby said he just left his backpack at Azazel's place. It wasn't supposed to be a big deal. I didn't know."

Pissed as he was, Dean could see Sam was in way over his head. "Come here, Sammy." Dean pulled his little brother into a hug. It was a testament to how scared he was that Sam came willingly and clung to him. "It's going to be fine."

"No, it isn't. Dean, you don't understand." Sam ran his hand through his hair in agitation. "I thought all the stories were just bullshit. He's bragged about the things he's done to people who have pissed him off. He's going to kick my ass. You need to give me back what you took."

Dean glared at his brother. "I flushed that shit down the toilet."

Sam paled. "_Dean."_

"Go home, Sammy. Take the long way back, but go right home."

"Dean, I'm not going to leave you alone. This is my fault. This is all my fault."

"Azazel's coming here, right?"

Sam nodded miserably.

"Then he and I are gonna have a conversation."

"You don't know what he can do. You don't know what he's done. If all the stories are true."

"Sam. Go home. Right now. I'll take care of it. Don't I always take care of it?"

Sam slumped. "Yeah."

"Then go."

Sam hesitated. "I'm gonna get Bobby. Bobby's house is closer."

"No. Go home." But Sam was already running top speed in the direction of Bobby Singer's place.

Dean growled. He was amped as hell, pissed because his brother was scared, and he'd been used, and...

Dean was going to rip this guy's lungs out.

He showed only a few minutes later.

With three friends.

_**~0~**_

Balthazar was telling a story about his latest party, trying to make Castiel feel bad that he hadn't come. As much as Castiel enjoyed Balthazar's company, he wasn't sure a house full of raucous party-goers were his scene. At least, it hadn't been worth it to challenge Raphael for permission. Castiel had found it best to pick his battles with his elder brother.

He almost never won.

"Cassy, you need to get out of that house more often. You're on the cusp of adulthood. Raphael shouldn't have so much control over your life the way he does."

"He's my elder. It's his right to guide me."

Balthazar sighed. "Cassy, Cassy. When are you going to realize you are your own man, and your brother may not deserve your respect?"

Castiel didn't answer. He turned his head to stare out the window of Balthazar's car, watching the trees and buildings go by.

As they were driving past Flagstaff High, Castiel happened to catch a flash of movement. His heart skipped a beat. "Stop the car!"

"What? Cas-"

"Stop the car. Right now. Pull over." Castiel was out of the car as soon as Balthazar had slowed down enough. He ran at top speed without a thought in his head except he had to stop what he saw. There were four boys - men, really - surrounding another boy. He was fighting valiantly. He'd even incapacitated one of them, but he was going to lose. Castiel couldn't see his face, but he did catch a glimpse of blood. A lot of it.

When Castiel was very young, he thought he might want to join the army as his big brother Michael had. His father had put him off by enrolling him early in martial arts classes which Castiel had continued over his life.

Castiel knew how to kick ass in the name of defense.

With a hollar, he threw himself into the fray. He caught the first assailant in the stomach and jabbed at his neck. It wouldn't kill him, but it would distract him. The second one was sent flying with a swift kick. Castiel went to grab the third by the shoulder, and he had to jump back when a knife was swung at him.

A bloody knife.

The boy they'd been beating fell to the ground with a grunt and a groan.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" the knife-wielding asshole growled. He swung wide, and Castiel dodged.

"You will not kill him," Castiel said.

The man sneered. "You have a death wish? Is that it?" He lunged. Castiel twisted to the side, grabbed his wrist and used his own momentum to send him to the floor. He stepped on his wrist, forcing him to drop the knife.

There was the sound of a gun cocking. Castiel and the others looked up to find Balthazar with his phone in one hand and a gun in the other. "I've called the police. Come away from those boys. Now."

Castiel grabbed up the bloody knife and hastened to the fallen boy's side. He heard scuffling as three of the assailants got the other one on his feet. "We're out of here," one of them said.

"Oh, I think not." Balthazar's words were a threat.

"Balthazar. Let them go."

"Are you insane?"

"Let them go! I need you. I need your hands."

The boy was ripped to ribbons. His blood was slipping past Castiel's fingers. He thought he could help. He thought he could slow the blood a least, but he needed more hands. "Balthazar, now!"

He heard Balthazar growl, but he must have lowered his weapon because then he heard the sound of footfalls running away from them. Balthazar dropped to his knees at Castiel's side. "Oh, holy fuck."

Castiel grabbed Balthazar's hand and pressed it hard against the boy's stomach. The boy screamed in agony. "Keep your hand there. Don't let go." To the boy he said. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts, but you'll die if we don't."

"S'okay." Castiel had no idea how the boy could speak as injured as he was. His cheeks and lips were swollen. His face was a bloody mess. "Don' wanna die."

"You won't. I won't let you." As he spoke, Castiel took his belt off. He used it as a tourniquet to stem the blood from a deep gash on the boy's arm. "Keep talking. Don't sleep." He reached in between Balthazar's arms to get at his belt.

"This is now how I pictured this happening," Balthazar muttered, but he adjusted himself so Castiel had better access.

Castiel glanced up long enough to see if the boy was still conscious. He was met by frightened eyes brimming with tears and pain. His face was so bloodied, he hadn't recognized him before. Dean Winchester. The boy who'd given him a ride to school and smiled at him in class.

"I'm scared," he said. The words were simple and slurred.

"Don't be afraid. I'm here. I'm here, Dean. I'm not going to leave you." He tightened Balthazar's belt above another gash on Dean's thigh.

"What the hell is going on. Dean?" A gruff voice and running footsteps came closer.

"Dean! Dean. Dean. No. Dean."

The space became very crowded as an older, bearded man and a young boy looking to be around Samandriel's age dropped to their knees around Castiel and Balthazar.

"Sammy. Bobby," Dean mumbled. His eyes were unfocused but searching.

Castiel could hear sirens. "Help is coming, Dean. You just have to hold on."

"Who did this? Who did this to you, boy?" the older man asked. He'd found another wound high on Dean's side, and he pressed down.

Dean stifled another cry.

"This is my fault. This is all my fault." Sam was crying.

"Shaddup, Sammy." Dean groaned. His eyelashes fluttered. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." His eyes were closing.

Castiel shifted and took Dean's hand. He squeezed. "Dean. Dean Winchester, open your eyes. Open your eyes right now."

Dean's eyes opened. He blinked and turned his head toward Castiel. In the background, Castiel heard cars skidding to a stop and sirens wailing. Dean's breath hitched, and he coughed. It was a wet sound. Blood in his lungs, Castiel thought with dismay. "You're not going to die," he said. It was a command.

For a moment, the space of a breath, Dean's eyes seemed to focus on him. "Bossy," he muttered.

Then, as the medics and police descended, his eyes rolled back in his head, and his body went slack.

* * *

**A/N: Did I just kill Deanie Beanie in the third chapter? O.o**

**Hehehe. Thanks to Melly and EveryDayBella for their help.**


	4. So My Watch Begins

By the time the police were done taking his statement, Castiel's family showed up. A call from the police was enough to merit Naomi's personal attention, which gave Castiel some comfort. Raphael was an unfortunate but unavoidable presence. What Castiel didn't expect was their eldest brother Michael leading the pack. Michael lived on his own. He came by some weekends, but it wasn't unheard of for the family not to see him months at a time.

Naomi darted to Castiel's side. Raphael surveyed the scene and strode right to Balthazar. He grabbed the man by his lapels and had him up against the wall in a heartbeat. "I knew you were nothing but trouble. What have you done? What have you gotten Castiel into?"

"Easy now." Balthazar looked unamused and unconcerned as he stared back at Raphael. "Calm down, ducky."

Raphael's eyes narrowed, and he took a threatening step forward.

"Raphael, let him go." Castiel tried to escape his mother's hands to separate the two, but she held him still.

"Sir, we're going to need you to calm down." The sheriff, Jody Mills, who'd been talking to Castiel, hurried to get between Raphael and Balthazar.

"Enough. Why is my son standing here covered in blood?" Naomi demanded. "You should be in a hospital, Castiel." It was more emotion than she'd shown in a long time, since well before Castiel's father disappeared.

"It's not my blood. None of it."

"Sheriff Mills, is it?" Michael's voice was smooth as ever. His bullshitting voice. It was what made him such a good recruiter. "My brother is a minor. Whatever he did-"

"He saved a young man's life," Sheriff Mills said, not letting him finish.

Balthazar slung his arm over Castiel's shoulders, leering at Raphael. "Our Cassy is quite the hero. Leapt right into the fray and fought off four of the little bastards."

Castiel frowned. "Dean had already incapacitated one of them. I just got them off him." He shook his head. He'd already been patient. "I want to go to the hospital. I want to see Dean." It wasn't a want. It was a need, plain and simple. So much of the other boy's blood had flowed over Castiel's fingers. That he'd lost consciousness on the scene was a bad thing; Castiel knew this. In all likelihood, Dean was already dead. His eyes strayed to the blood stain on the concrete. It was so large. Too large.

"You're macabre," his mother said. "You can't go to the hospital looking like that."

"It's a hospital. I'm sure they've seen blood." As Castiel looked down at his hands, at the dried blood flaking off him and covering his clothing, he saw the wisdom of his mother's words.

"Castiel."

Castiel looked up as Michael put a hand on his shoulder. "Come home with us. You can tell us what happened and get a fresh change of clothes. Then I'll drive you to the hospital. You'd probably only get in the way right now."

"And you've ruined Dad's coat," Raphael added, looking Castiel over with a hard stare.

Frowning, Castiel touched the trench coat he wore nearly every day.

"I'm sure it's not ruined. Let's go home, Castiel." Michael emphasized his gentle command by squeezing Castiel's shoulder.

Though it was the last thing he wanted, Castiel gritted his teeth and nodded. He would give his family a few minutes to assure themselves he was fine, he would change clothes, and then he was going to the hospital to find out what had happened with Dean.

He couldn't be dead. Castiel could not accept the idea.

_**~0~**_

In the end, Castiel had to take a shower to get all the blood off his body. His stomach twisted as he watched the pink-tinged water circle the drain. It seemed wrong that Dean's blood was quite literally on his hands, and yet he didn't know the other boy. It seemed like a waste. Hadn't fate put Dean right in his path? They were in the same class, and Dean had offered him a ride. They both had little brothers named Sammy. Life long friendships were built on much less.

It felt as though if Dean died now, Castiel would have wasted a chance, though for what, he didn't know.

He got dressed as quickly as possible. Surprisingly, it was easy to convince Michael he had to go.

"It's a sense you get out in the field," Michael said as they drove. "You save the life of one of your fellow soldiers, you feel responsible for them. You want to see them through to the end." He touched Castiel's arm. "I called the hospital when you were in the shower. They couldn't tell me anything, of course, but the boy is alive. I'm proud of you, Castiel."

Castiel was shocked into stillness. It was not often he heard those words.

But before he could think to respond, they'd pulled up in front of the hospital, and Castiel's attention was diverted.

"Call me when you need a ride home," Michael said before he pulled away.

It took Castiel frustrating minutes to talk his way into the hospital and longer to figure out where Dean was. Finally, he found the correct waiting area where Dean had been taken into surgery well over an hour before.

He saw the grizzled old man first. Bobby, Dean had called him. He was a man's man, with a tough as nails exterior. But Castiel could see the worry etched on his features. Whoever he was to these boys, he loved them.

Castiel's eyes slid from Bobby to the huddled form in the chair beside him. Sam Winchester was a wreck. His legs were drawn up on the seat, his head buried between his knees. Even from his vantage point, Castiel could see he was trembling. Maybe he was crying.

They were both in their bloodied shirts. No going home with their family safely intact.

Steeling himself, Castiel went up to them. He cleared his throat. "Excuse me. I'm sorry to bother you-"

"You're the boy from the alley," Bobby interrupted him.

"My name is Castiel. Dean goes to my high school." He shuffled nervously. "Or, I suppose I go to his, seeing as I just started there."

"Well, whatever the case may be, thank you." He offered his hand. "I'm Bobby. These boys are my nephews."

Castiel shook his hand with a firm grip. "Did it work? Is he..." His eyes darted to Sam who had yet to look up. "Will he survive?"

Bobby's cheek twitched, and he looked even paler than before. "You gave him time. He's done more with less, that boy." He took off his hat, scratching his head.

"May I wait with you?"

The man looked surprised, but before he could answer, his cell phone rang. He glanced at it before he put it to his ear. "Nice of you to answer your phone, John. The idea of being available to call if there's an emergency is keeping the damn thing on... Yeah, there's an emergency. Your kid is dying and you're not here."

Sam looked up at that. His eyes were a mixture of agony, guilt, and fury. Bobby looked to him and frowned. He took a deep breath and took his conversation down the hall. Sam watched him until he disappeared around the corner. Then he hung his head.

"May I sit with you?" Castiel asked after a moment.

Sam looked at him as if he'd just realized he was standing there. He looked down again and shrugged. "Free country."

Castiel sat next to Sam rather than take any one of the number of chairs available. The boy looked startled. He shifted in his seat, but he didn't say anything. If it was Samandriel in his place, Castiel would have wanted to hug him. This Sam radiated a hard kind of wariness that reminded him of Raphael. No one could hug Raphael. It wouldn't end well.

"I think your brother is going to be fine," Castiel said instead.

Sam huffed. "You don't know that."

"I'm not a prophet," Castiel agreed. "But I don't think he's done, that's all."

The boy said nothing. His lower lip trembled, but he breathed in deep before he could start crying. "Hey. How did you know how to do all that stuff?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

"What stuff?"

"How did you know what to do for Dean? The EMT guys said he would have died at the school if you hadn't done it."

"Oh. Most of it is common sense, really. Your heart pumps blood throughout your body. If one of your veins is, uh... open, your heart is pumping your blood out of you. Tourniquets are meant to stop the flow, close off the veins." He cocked his head, realizing belatedly he hadn't answered Sam's question. "My father wanted me to learn. He would tell me about the body and that he would teach me things when I was older. But then he disappeared." Castiel shook his head. "My brother taught me."

Sam's brows were furrowed. "Your dad disappeared?"

"He was in another country, and he went missing."

"He's dead?"

"I don't think so."

Sam was quiet for a few moments. "I'm sorry." He paused. "My mom is dead. That was my fault too."

"How was that your fault?"

Sam's shoulders rose and fell. "It just was. It's my fault she's dead. And if Dean dies, that'll be my fault too."

"I don't think so."

"You don't know anything." Sam wrapped his arms around himself, and Castiel wished he could lift the boy's burden. "I should have stayed. My dad taught me how to fight, and Dean taught me how to fight better. I could have helped him. I should have. They hurt him because of me. It should have been me."

"But it wasn't you." Castiel touched Sam's shoulder. As he suspected, the boy recoiled away as though his touch burned. "My father often told me that making mistakes is inevitable. You will hurt people. You will hurt yourself. Strength comes from not wallowing in the consequences of your mistakes, but picking yourself up to make different ones."

"If I killed my brother..." Sam's voice shook when he spoke.

"You didn't."

_**~0~**_

John Winchester arrived hours later, just after the surgeon came to talk to them about Dean being out of surgery.

"Dad-" Sam tried, but his father cut him off.

"Don't talk to me right now, Sam."

The man didn't even look at his youngest son, and Castiel decided right then he didn't like him. He felt bad for the uncharitable thought. Castiel knew what it was like to lose a father, but he had no idea what it was like to lose a son.

There was something wrong here, something other than the obvious.

But Castiel didn't have much time to think about it. A nurse came to get the family. Castiel knew he was out of place. Bobby had already slung an arm around Sam's shoulders; he would comfort the boy. Dean needed his family, and Cas knew when to make an exit. The doctor had said they had done all they could do. It was up to Dean now to fight.

"I'll say a prayer for all of you," he promised before they went their separate ways.

_**~0~**_

The act of heroism and the fact the police had only caught three of the four men responsible for Dean's condition kept Castiel out of school the next day. Though he didn't relish the idea of getting behind in his studies, he was relieved. He slept a little, but he was eager to get back to the hospital.

He took a cab, too restless to wait for the bus. Soon, he was back at the Flagstaff Medical Center.

He peered into Dean's room to see who might be there. His father was in a chair by his side, slumped over in sleep. Castiel grudgingly amended his opinion from the night before. John Winchester was in a position no parent wanted to be in. He was going to say dumb things, hurtful things. Castiel saw the way his hand rested over his son's. There was love there.

Love in all its permutations made people do crazy things.

Castiel shook that thought off and stepped quietly into the room. His eyes went to the still form in the bed.

The doctor the night before had said it was likely Dean wouldn't wake up soon. The damage to his insides was considerable, and the drugs they were giving him kept him sedated. Besides that, he'd lost a lot of blood. Even if he could wake up, he might not have the energy to gain full consciousness.

It was probably a blessing, Castiel reflected. Dean was attached to a ventilator, among other things. Castiel scratched at his own throat in sympathy. It could not be comfortable. But then, nothing about Dean's condition looked comfortable. His face was swollen and bruised. The worst of his cuts, a split lip and one just above his eyebrow, were stitched but the other scrapes stood out against the deathly pale white of his skin.

Castiel took the seat on the other side of Dean's bed. He mimicked John's pose, laying his hand over Dean's. It wasn't an expression of affection so much as one meant to ground him. If his soul was floating somewhere imprecise, deciding to stay or go, Castiel thought a physical tie to the world could only help guide him home.

He leaned close to the other boy's ear so his whisper wouldn't disturb John's rest. "Dean. We don't really know each other, but I would very much like to correct that. I think there's work for you yet."

That was what his father had said the last time he left. Naomi had begged him not to go. His sons had begged him.

"There's work left for me yet," he'd said. "I'll always come home to you."

But he hadn't.

"Your work is here, Dean." He brushed his fingers over Dean's knuckles, noting the bruises and contusions there. He'd put up a hell of a fight before he'd been taken down.

Castiel lapsed into silence. Still exhausted from the long night before and very little sleep, fell asleep to the snap-hiss rhythm of the breathing machine and the steady blips from the heart monitor.

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to barburella, everydaybella, and songster. **

**How we doing out there? Talk to me!**


	5. Three Conversations

**A/N: Here we go, kids!**

* * *

Dean was choking. He couldn't breathe. Something was choking him. It hurt. Everything hurt and he was going to die. He swung out violently, trying to fight, but he couldn't. He couldn't fight. His body was too heavy, lethargic. He tried to yell but he couldn't.

"Dean. Calm down, son. Calm down."

_Dad? _Dean could hear his father, but he couldn't see him. He was scared. He was terribly frightened, and he wanted his father. He wanted to find him.

"Nurse! Someone!" his father was shouting. Dean still couldn't shout. He was still choking, something digging into his throat from the inside.

"Dean. Open your eyes."

At first, Dean didn't recognize the voice. It was a calm voice, though, and Dean felt like he wanted to obey because it sounded like it knew what it was talking about.

"Dean." The voice was more firm. "Open your eyes. Look at me. You can do it."

Dean opened his eyes and winced. Too bright. Everything was blurry. He saw shapes. One of them looked like his father, but he was distracted by the closer one. Someone had stilled his thrashing head between gentle hands.

"Good, Dean. Good. Don't fight the tube. It's helping you breathe."

When Dean's vision focused, he found himself staring into an incredible blue. The eyes pinned him, and he stopped struggling. He felt calmer. He felt the soothing touch of thumbs stroking his cheeks.

And then more chaos.

Nurses came in and shouldered their way into Dean's vision. They asked him questions and told him what the voice had told him. Don't fight the tube in his throat. It was helping him breathe. He was okay. He was in a hospital. They were giving him something for the pain. His dad was with him and so was his boyfriend.

_Wait, what?_

Dean jerked, fighting the lethargy in his body and fighting the effect of the drugs. He found his dad first. John wasn't looking at him but across the bed. Dean rolled his head. Just before sleep took him again, he saw the blue-eyed face in full. Castiel. The boy from his class.

Castiel was staring back at him steadily, and somehow, confused and scared as he was, Dean felt better, as though it really would be all right.

_**~0~**_

Waking again wasn't as terrifying as it had been the first time. For one thing, Dean could breathe. His throat was raw as hell, but there wasn't a tube in it. There was one down his nose though. That didn't feel comfortable at all. It tickled the back of his throat, but it wasn't nearly as bad.

But Dean felt like hell. He tried to remember if he'd tumbled down a cliff and hit every rock along the way. Then it all came back to him.

Sammy. Azazel and three other assholes. There were four of them, but Dean was pissed. He took out one of them, but then... Then there was a knife. And pain. A lot of pain.

"Sammy." He struggled to open his eyes. He coughed and then groaned when the thing down his nose jarred.

"Your brother and father just left. Bobby was here earlier too."

Dean was confused as to why Castiel was in his hospital room. Then he had fleeting flashes of the four assholes attacking him and then Castiel was just there. He remembered the other boy's face over him saying he was sorry. Sorry because he was trying to stop the bleeding and it hurt, it really, really hurt. "You saved me," he said out loud. His voice was a raw croak.

Castiel was watching him, his gaze steady and slightly unnerving. "The doctors saved you. I just gave you time."

"You saved me," Dean repeated because it was true. He knew it. Castiel knew it. "Thanks."

"Well." Castiel tilted his head, his expression mildly curious. "Despite being grateful I saved your life, your father doesn't like me."

Dean blinked. "What? Why?"

"The nurses called me your boyfriend. It didn't bother me, but it bothered him. It made him uncomfortable. He didn't want to leave me here alone with you, but he had to take Sam home. Bobby wouldn't."

For seconds, Dean just stared back at the other boy. Then he had to laugh. He quickly regretted it. His chest hurt. His throat hurt. He just hurt. "Ow."

Castiel came closer, putting his hand to Dean's shoulder. "I'm not sure why that was funny."

Dean leaned back against his pillow, exhausted by the pain. "'S'not. Just... you lay it all out there, don't you?"

"Mrs. Harvelle says I'm very blunt."

"Like a hammer." He sighed. "Why did the nurse think you were my boyfriend?"

Castiel drew back, and Dean almost missed the slight, warm weight on his shoulder. "I was touching your face."

Dean had vague memories of waking up before, of being scared and in pain, and the other boy telling him to calm down. "My dad's, uh... He's..." Dean didn't know how to finish. "Isn't your family all religious? Named after angels and whatever?"

"I'm assuming you're asking because you wonder why it didn't bother me that the nurse thought we were together?" Castiel shrugged. "My family is faithful, not religious. None of my family believes God is anything but indifferent to sexual orientation."

"Really?"

"Certainly. Jesus had two dads and he turned out fine."

Dean stared. It took him a few seconds to figure out the kid was joking again. He laughed and then winced. "Goddammit, Cas. You have to stop doing that."

"Sorry." He rubbed Dean's shoulder, and Dean wondered if he should be bothered. But the way Cas said it, it did seem kind of stupid to be bothered by that kind of touch. It was obviously meant to be comforting.

"S'all right." His eyelids drooped. "What's wrong with me?"

"Well, offhand, I would say you've been stabbed multiple times."

"Thanks, Cas. Really."

"You lost a lot of blood. Collapsed lung. A few organs tried to fail, but the doctors patched you up. You'll recover."

"Tha's good." He sighed. "I'm tired."

"It's the blood loss. You'll be weak as a kitten for a few days, I'm afraid."

"I'm not a fucking kitten."

"Fine. Then you'll be as weak as a dumb kid who got himself stabbed multiple times." He paused. "You might have ruined my father's trenchcoat."

"Shit, well I guess I'm in trouble now."

"Perhaps. You should sleep."

"Okay. You'll be here, Cas?" Dean's thoughts were thick. He couldn't really think why it was important to him that Cas be there when he woke up or why he thought Cas didn't have anything better to do.

"I'll watch over you."

For some reason, Dean felt better.

_**~0~**_

When Dean woke again Cas was not there, but Sam was. "Sammy," he croaked, and his brother looked up from the book in his lap.

"Dean!" He grinned, but then his smile fell. He looked down with shame on his face. "Dean. I'm-"

"Don't say you're sorry." Dean breathed as deeply and carefully as he could, but it still hurt. "You're okay. I'll be fine."

"You're not fine, Dean. Look at you. They've got your pee in a bag."

Dean groaned. "Trying not to think about that, Sammy. Shut up."

Sam was scowling. "Dad won't talk to me."

"You don't like talking to Dad anyway." Despite his words, Dean frowned. "Where is Dad?"

"He's basically been sleeping here, did you know that?"

Dean hadn't, and it stunned him.

"He cried. When he saw you. When they first brought you out of surgery." Sam smiled, but the expression was sad. "Guess he does love us. Or you, at least."

"Sam." Dean raised his hand and wiped at his eyes.

"I almost got you killed, Dean."

"It's my job." Dean wheezed and winced as his body protested. "It's my job to take care of you. It's the one thing Dad asked me to do."

"It shouldn't be your job. You're not my father. He is. And anyway, I don't need anyone to take care of me."

"Obviously."

Sam looked away, and Dean could see his jaw working. Kid was probably gnashing his teeth. "Cut it out. You're gonna grind your teeth down." He let his eyes close though he didn't feel like sleeping, at least not for another few minutes. "What happened with the assholes?"

"They got three of them pretty much right away." He swallowed hard. "And they got Azazel just a few hours ago. Close to our house."

Dean's eyes flew open. "Son of a bitch."

"They got him."

"Yeah, well. Good. If he wasn't behind bars, I'd rip his throat out." Dean closed his eyes again.

"Because that worked so well before."

"I'm not that easy to get rid of." Dean opened his eyes again and rolled his head to look at his brother. "I'm right here. I ain't going anywhere, kid. I'm gonna be around to keep your stupid ass in line for a long, long time."

That coaxed a smile out of Sam. "You're really not mad?"

"Naw. I always knew you were a dumbass. I mean, really, Sammy? I took one look at Ruby and knew she was bad news."

"Yeah." Sam grimaced. "I don't know. Dad is going to transfer me to the other school."

"That's good."

"I'm not going to do anything stupid again."

"Well, that's doubtful." Dean dragged one eye open. "But I'd settle for you not falling for bullshit like that again."

Sam's lips tugged down, and Dean realized belatedly they were trembling. He flew forward, and Dean swallowed a cry of pain as Sam threw his arms awkwardly around him. He sighed, and patted his brother's back in a weak motion. "It's okay, Sammy. I'm okay. Everything's going to be fine."

_**~0~**_

The fifth or sixth time Dean opened his eyes, it was his father at his bedside. Sam had said he was sleeping there, but Dean didn't believe it until he saw it for himself. It was dark outside, and John was asleep.

For a long while, Dean just stared. Time in the hospital was surreal and nonsensical. He had no idea how many hours passed between sleeps. It could have been days. Still, his body felt pummeled and worn. He'd awoken briefly when doctors and nurses were prodding at him, maybe he'd answered a few of their questions, but mostly, he slept.

Dean entertained the thought he'd awakened this time in some alternate universe. His father had never sat by his bedside, even when he was sick. John was a grin and bear it kind of person, and he expected his sons to be as well.

And besides that, Dean expected him to be pissed as hell. After all, how had Dean let this happen? How had he not seen that Sam was in trouble? Especially after he ran away just before school started, Dean should have been watching him closer.

Dean tried to raise his hand only to find it weighted down by his father's hand. The movement drew John out of sleep, though. He blinked and shifted in his chair, wincing as his bones cracked.

"Dad?" Dean still wasn't sure if he was dreaming.

"Hey, kiddo." His father's voice was gentle. "How you feeling?"

"Like stir-fried crap."

John leaned forward, his lip curling up at one corner. "Well, I don't blame you. But the doctor said you're out of the woods. It won't be so long before you can come home. Then it's just a matter of resting up until you're back on your feet."

"Super."

"Sheriff Mills wants to talk to you soon. Tomorrow, if you're feeling up to it."

"Good. Okay. I can do that. Whatever keeps those bastards away from Sam." He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry I didn't see it coming. I should have been watching him better."

His father stared at him for a long moment. "What your brother did isn't your fault, Dean. What you were thinking running headlong into a fight with drug dealers, I have no idea."

"They were threatening Sam."

"And you should have gone to the police when you found what Sam said you found. Or at least come to Bobby or to me."

"How was I supposed to come to you, Dad? You're never home." Dean regretted raising his voice not only because he was being disrespectful, but because it brought on a coughing fit that made it difficult not to let on how much pain he was in.

John was on his feet, a steadying hand on Dean's arm, in a heartbeat. "Take it easy." He'd hit the call button by Dean's bedside. "Hey. My kid could use something to take the edge off. What do you say?"

By the time a nurse came in, Dean had finally stopped coughing. He lay back in bed, on the verge of passing out again. He hated this state of being - the constant pain that had him near tears, the weakness, the inability to do a damn thing for himself. But whatever the nurse had pumped into his IV had him feeling good in no time. "Sweetheart, you are my favorite," Dean said with a contented sigh as the numbing effects of the drug spread over him.

The nurse shook her head, but offered him a smile before she left. Then John was back at his side, his expression more serious than Dean had seen it in a while.

"What you did was stupid, Dean." His voice was hard, that tone that automatically had Dean looking away from his father in shame. "Look at me."

Gulping, Dean turned his head in John's direction.

John looked surprisingly vulnerable. "I had to bury your mother. I almost had to bury Sammy that day." His voice shook. "Do not do this to me again. I won't bury my boys." He gave Dean's shoulder a shake. "Promise me, Dean. Nothing this stupid again."

"Yeah, Dad. I promise." What else could he say?

But John looked satisfied. He nodded and sat back in his chair. "Good. Now get some sleep. Don't fight it. Sleep will help you heal." He tilted his head. "That's an order."

"Yes, sir."

Dean slept.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to Songster and barburella. **

**Talk to me, kids. How are we doing out there?**


	6. Brothers

**A/N: Why is it Sunday?! But hey, every day brings us closer to Season 9, right? Right. Okay.**

* * *

Michael and Raphael were arguing about him. Again.

"Did Luc teach you nothing, Raphael? Why are you keeping Castiel away from that hospital?"

"He has no business there, bothering that family when he should be home with his. Or tell me that it's normal for a young boy to sit and watch another young boy sleep all night. It's unhealthy, Michael."

"He feels responsible for the Winchester boy. That's only understandable."

"And why should he feel responsible? He did his duty. He put the boy back together. His responsibility is here with his own family."

"And what-"

"Enough, Michael. You gave up your place as head of this household. Castiel is _my_ responsibility, and he will obey. You do remember, Michael. This behavior, the way he's arguing with me, challenging me is exactly how Luc began."

"Castiel is not Lucifer, and you are not me. Is that what you want, brother? For Castiel to end up like Lucifer?"

"That's what I'm trying to prevent."

"Castiel?"

Castiel looked down the hallway to see Samandriel coming toward him. The boy looked pensive and scared.

"Come here, Sammy." Castiel lifted his arm and tucked his brother close to him, moving them into Castiel's room.

"Did you get into a fight with Raphael like Luc?"

Castiel sincerely doubted Samandriel remembered the argument between Lucifer and Michael. He'd been far too young. It was after their father left but before he disappeared. Luc was seventeen. He and Michael got into a fist fight over Luc's behavior that ended with him being thrown out of the house. It was months before the family saw him again, and then, it was only at his trial before he was locked away to serve a forty year sentence.

So Castiel understood why Samandriel was worried. He'd grown up hearing these stories. He'd grown up terrified that if he didn't obey, he would end up like Lucifer.

"It was a normal teenage thing, Sammy. Don't worry," Castiel soothed. "He doesn't want me to go to the hospital again."

"Why would you go to the hospital?"

"I told Dean Winchester I'd see him."

"He's the boy you saved, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I think it would be good to see someone who's sick in the hospital."

"I do too." Castiel cocked his head. "You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think that it would be nice if we went together. Dean has a brother named Sam. He's a little older than you, but I think he needs a friend."

Samandriel brightened. He liked helping people. "Is he sad about his brother?"

"Among other things."

"I think I'd like to meet him."

Castiel ruffled his brother's hair. "How about now?"

Samandriel balked. "But you said Raphael doesn't want you to go."

"He doesn't want me to stare at Dean while he sleeps, but he won't argue if we're just going to cheer up a couple boys who could use it." Actually, Castiel was fairly certain his elder brother would have a lot to say on the matter. Personally, he thought Raphael was being difficult about Dean simply because Michael wasn't.

Samandriel was trusting. He followed Castiel out of the house.

Castiel didn't bother to tell either of his elder brothers.

_**~0~**_

"You're sulking, Sam. More than usual, I mean."

"Dad says I have to go back to school tomorrow."

"Yeah, well. I know it's been a nice break and all..."

"This is not a nice break, Dean." Sam slumped in his seat beside Dean's bedside. "You're gonna be bored all day."

"Naw. Now that I can stay awake for more than five minutes at a time, I'm sure there's plenty to do. The quicker I can get myself mobile, the faster I'm out of this hellhole."

Sam made a face, but then he brightened. "I can bring you my laptop."

Dean grinned at that. "Oh, man. Are you sure you wouldn't die without your laptop? You might have to have an actual conversation with Dad."

"Like that would happen."

Dean sighed. "You gotta give him a break, Sammy."

"_I_ have to give him a break? Dean, he can barely look at me. He's pissed. He's not even there half the time."

"What do you mean he's not there?"

"I mean he drops me off, orders me around a bit, and then he leaves and he's not back all night."

Dean groaned and banged his head back against his pillows. "Son of a bitch." He swallowed hard. "I'll talk to him."

"What's the point?"

Before Dean could get into that argument, there was a knock at the door. He smiled when he saw who it was. "Hey, Cas. I thought you forgot about me."

"I have a very good memory." His eyes, as always, were intense on Dean, staring. "You look better."

"You checkin' me out?" Dean winked gamely at the other boy. Sam scrunched his nose and huffed, but someone else giggled. That was when Dean realized Cas wasn't alone. "Hey, who's the newbie?"

"This is Samandriel." Cas put his hands on the boy's shoulders, but Samandriel bounced forward. He stuck his hand in Sam's face.

"You're Sam."

Sam's lips worked up and down as if he didn't know what to make of the kid. Dean didn't know what to think either. The way he smiled was way too... not moody. "Um, I guess you're Sam too," Sam said as he shook the other boy's hand.

Samandriel smiled and looked over to Dean. "And you're Dean." He stuck his hand out.

"That's what they say." Dean shook the boy's hand, amused.

"Castiel says you're going to be okay. I'm glad."

"Yeah. I'm glad, too. I'm glad your brother has the moves like Jagger."

Both Cas and Samandriel looked at him with twin perplexed expressions. Dean raised an eyebrow. "How can you not have heard that song?" They just stared back at him. "Well, I'm impressed. And jealous."

Sam's stomach interrupted them then with a loud growl. He looked sheepish as he hunkered down in his seat. "Sorry."

"Go get some grub, kid. I'll be fine," Dean said.

Sam looked uncertain, but Samandriel bounced in place. "Yeah. I can come with you, if you want. I've heard hospital food isn't very good, but when we came here when Gabriel was in a motorcycle accident, they had a huge bell pepper stuffed with hamburger. It was really good."

Sam's expression was bemused, but he followed Samandriel out at Dean's urging.

"How old is your brother?" Dean asked.

"Twelve."

"He seems... younger."

"I heard his teachers talking about that when I went to pick him up. Sheltered, they said, and I suppose that's true."

John had always had things to say about kids who were homeschooled. From what Dean had seen of Cas, he was a somewhat skewed version of normal, as though his people skills were rusty. He didn't speak the same language as the other kids, and there were things about him that would have seemed strange on anyone else but Cas. The way he stared for one thing.

He was staring again now, and Dean wondered why it didn't bother him, why he caught himself staring right back.

The oddly intense moment was broken when a nurse walked in. "Meds and vitals, Dean. You know the drill."

Cas moved to the chair Sam had vacated and watched with a curious look. When the nurse was done, she stood back from the bed, her hands on her hips. "What do you say we try walking again."

The idea made Dean more tired than he already was, but he put on a huge grin anyway. "For you, sweetheart? Anything. Especially if you're the one I get to lean on." He winked.

The nurse clucked and shook her head, but she was amused. "How about you let your friend here help you." She looked to Cas. "What do you say, friend? You want to help?"

Cas stood without a moment's hesitation. "You don't have to Cas," Dean said.

"No, I'd like to help if I can."

The nurse extended her hand and drew Cas over to Dean's side. "Hold your arm out. Good. Now Dean."

Dean knew how this was done. He hated it. He gritted his teeth, but he still grunted and groaned as he got his legs around and slid off the bed onto his feet.

He should have felt self-conscious or pathetic, the way he was grasping Cas's arm and panting. He'd made John leave the room when they did this the first time, but somehow, it was different with Cas. The other boy murmured encouragements, and Dean felt buoyed, if anything. Cas wasn't as wiry as he looked. He took most of Dean's weight and his arm remained steady.

"Can I trust you two to make it to the end of the hall without getting in trouble?"

"Depends," Dean said between pants. "If I make a break for it, will you have to tackle me?"

The nurse raised her eyebrows and laughed. "Not my job, honey. I'd leave that pleasure to Bruno the Big Burly Security Guard."

"Think I'll pass on that."

"Thought you might." She finished making sure his IV wasn't going to trip him and stepped away. "You kids got it?"

"I have him," Cas said. His voice was so sure, Dean believed him in spite of the way his leg ached and trembled.

Dean groaned. He adjusted his grip on both Cas and the IV pole, trying to remember how to move his legs. Cas murmured soft encouragements in his ear. Just one foot forward. Then the other. Then again. Dean shuffled and tried not to whine, but he found a rhythm soon enough.

It still hurt like hell.

"Agh. Talk to me, Cas. Please."

"What would you like to talk about?"

"Anything. Just distract me."

"Sam told me he thinks it's his fault your mother died," Cas said after a moment.

"Oh, man." Dean grumbled and looked up at the ceiling as he shuffled forward. "That's just stupid. He was six months old. There was a home invasion. Mom was the one who found the creeper in Sam's nursery. Of course she rushed in there. What else was she going to do?"

"That's very frightening."

"Yeah. She handed Sam to Dad and Dad handed him to me." Pant. Pant. Pant. "He told me to run outside with Sam. There was yelling and screaming." He swallowed a whimper, not at his story- he'd long ago gotten used to telling it- but because his leg threatened to give out. Cas put an arm around his waist and braced him with his other hand. "The creeper ran out. Dad came out. Mom didn't."

"I'm very sorry."

"Yeah, well." Dean gasped as pain racked his body. He grasped Cas's hand so tight, he was surprised the other boy didn't complain.

"You're almost to the end of the hall, Dean." Cas gave him a light squeeze, a half hug as he waited for Dean to start moving again.

Dean thought of Sam at home alone. He took another step. "Yeah." His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. "I got this shit. The Force is strong with this one."

"I don't understand that reference."

Dean ground to a halt again this time in shock rather than pain. He turned his head, surprised to find Cas's face so close. He blinked sporadically and shook his head. "Really? Star Wars?"

Cas's face remained a blank mask.

"_Really_?"

Dean followed Cas's gentle tug. For a minute, Dean couldn't speak as he got turned around and headed in the other direction. "The Force. Capital F. Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader, Han Solo. Yoda. This means nothing to you?"

"We don't own a TV. I saw a few Disney movies at camp. And The Parent Trap."

"Hayley Mills or Lindsay Lohan?"

"Who's Hayley Mills?"

Dean hung his head. "Oh, man. No Star Wars but you've seen a Lindsay Lohan movie?" He had to laugh, and he quickly regretted it.

"It's okay, Dean. Just a few more steps. You're almost back to your room. I bet they'll give you more pain meds, soon."

"Yeah. Meds. Bed." _Meds. Bed. _The mantra kept his feet moving forward.

When they got back to his room, Dean started. His father was sitting in the chair by his bedside. His eyes were not on Dean's face, but lower down. He was probably looking at the way Dean was pressed up against Cas, holding tight to his hand.

Dean disentangled himself from Cas's hold. He managed to bite back a groan at the too-quick movement, but only barely. He braced himself against the door jamb instead. "Dad? I was... We were..."

"We were walking." Cas said.

John gave him a long look, but he jerked his head in a nod. He stood and held his arm out for Dean. "I have it from here," he said to Cas.

Dean watched, trying to steady his breath, as Cas and John stared at each other for an awkward, heavy handful of moments. Cas nodded and looked to Dean, holding his gaze without shame or uncertainty. "I'll come again soon. I can bring your homework."

Despite the odd feeling in the air, Dean had to smile. "Dude, you can hold off on that one as long as you want. I've been stabbed. It should exempt me from homework."

The side of Cas's mouth quirked up. "Well, in case it doesn't." He brushed Dean's arm. "I'll send Sam along."

Dean watched Cas retreat until his father squeezed his hand, drawing his attention.

_**~0~**_

"I like Sam a lot," Samandriel said as they rounded the corner near home. "He's going to the middle school by my school starting tomorrow. Isn't that great?"

Cas made a vague noise of agreement, but he wasn't concentrating on what his little brother was saying. Despite his consistent inner monologue and rationalization- he'd done nothing wrong- he was nervous. Raphael would be angry. He had disobeyed. There would be consequences.

When they got to the door, Cas pushed Samandriel behind him. "Be quiet, all right?"

Samandriel furrowed his eyebrows. "Castiel, what-"

"Just be quiet." Cas's voice was still gentle, but his heart was beginning to pound hard.

His fingers trembled as he slid the key in the lock.

The house was quiet. Michael's car was gone. So was Naomi's. Raphael was there alone.

"Castiel. Samandriel. Come here." Raphael called from the living room. His voice was calm.

Raphael's calm was the most unnerving thing in Castiel's world.

Samandriel looked up at Castiel. "Is he angry?"

"Don't worry." Castiel took Samandriel's hand and led him forward to the living room. He had to force himself to look his elder brother in the eye.

It was only after a long, hard stare that Raphael spoke. "Where have you been?"

"We went to the hospital to visit Dean. I brought Samandriel because Dean's little brother, Sam, could use a friend. It was the charitable thing to do." Castiel had practiced this speech on the way home.

"I told you to leave that family alone."

"And I disobeyed you." He took a deep breath. "Samandriel didn't, though. I told him it was okay. This is not his fault."

Castiel hated the way Raphael looked at him in times like these, like he could read his mind, know his soul and his fear. He nodded. "Samandriel, go to your room." His eyes didn't leave Castiel.

"Raphael, Castiel helped-"

"Go to your room," Raphael repeated.

Samandriel hesitated only a couple seconds more before Castiel heard his footsteps retreat. He was relieved. And scared. It took all his self-control to keep himself still as Raphael continued to stare at him.

Still, his body jolted when Raphael stood.

As his brother came closer, Castiel bowed his head and waited.

* * *

**A/N: I know. Parents of the year, all around. **

**Thanks to songster, barburella, and everydaybella for their help this round.**

**How are we feeling out there in fanfic land?**


	7. Star Wars

**A/N: Let's have a little fun.**

* * *

Lisa was fussing over Dean. It wasn't bad. He liked the way her fingers felt in his hair, but didn't really like that she'd insisted on spoon feeding him the bland jello the hospital was letting him choke down.

Bobby thought it was high-freggin-larious judging by the way his shoulders shook with silent laughter. But when Dean cast him a pleading look, he took the hint.

"Come on now, sweetheart. Dean needs his rest."

Dean had no intention of resting yet. He'd slept enough. Too much. And he was still tired. That annoyed the crap out of him. He swore he was getting sores on his ass.

He heard measured steps, and he tried to sit up straighter. "Hey, Dad."

"Hello, Dean," a voice that wasn't his father's responded.

Dean turned his head. "Cas. Hey." He grinned at the other boy.

"How are you feeling?"

"Ya know. I'd be better if they let the cute nurses help me shower instead of the buff attendant guys, but whatever. I guess it's kind of cool those guys could bench press me."

Castiel set his backpack down by the bed as he walked over to Dean.

"My dad gave me his leather jacket," Dean said as though Cas had asked. "Guess he was feeling guilty."

"About what?"

"He's taking off again. He's a trucker. He's got no choice. He has to keep food on the table, you know?" If Sam was there, he would have called Dean on his bullshit. Sam knew damn well John was a mechanic by trade. So was Bobby. Bobby needed the help and he would have given John a job in a heartbeat. But Cas didn't know that.

"His job doesn't understand he has a sick son?"

Dean bristled. "I'm not sick, man. I'm just a little banged up. I don't need anyone to take care of me. They'll let me out of here sooner or later. I need to get back to Sam."

Cas regarded him in that cool way of his, but he nodded. He tugged at the oversized trench coat he wore. "This was my father's as well."

Dean's throat got tight as a memory hit him. He remembered the horrible slicing pain throughout his body and a boy, this boy, kneeling over him, his coat covered in Dean's blood, his blue tie askew, and his brilliant eyes fierce. Dean had never been more scared in his life. He was certain he was going to die.

_I won't let you. Keep talking. Don't sleep._

Dean shook the memory and Cas's commanding voice away as he swallowed past the lump in his throat. "You got all the blood out."

"My brother Michael knows a dry cleaners who can work miracles."

"Apparently."

"In any event." Cas sat in the chair by Dean's bedside. "I come with gifts."

"Jerky and pie and porn?"

Cas's lips turned down in a frown. "I didn't think-"

"Cas. I was joking." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Oh. Right." Cas busied himself, rifling through the bag at his feet. He produced a stack of folders and papers that made Dean tired just looking at them. "Homework. As I promised."

"Man. You hate me." Dean groaned and banged his head back against his pillow.

"I can help you, if you wish. We have many of the same classes. It will be much more of a pain in the ass if you try to catch up later."

Dean smirked. For some reason, it was always amusing when Cas cursed, and he was trying too hard to help for reasons Dean couldn't fathom. "You shouldn't have, Cas, but I guess you're right." He gave the other boy two healthy thumps on the back.

Cas's eyes narrowed in obvious pain, and he swallowed a moan. "Are you okay, Cas?"

"Fine," Cas said too quickly. He started to pick up the half empty containers of bland jello and the apple juice Dean was supposed to be sipping to make room for all his homework.

Dean stared. For once, Cas didn't stare back. His movements were stiff, and now that Dean was watching, he could see the way Cas's eyes tightened at the corners, as if moving was painful. To test the horrible theory in his head, Dean put his hand to Cas's shoulder and squeezed.

Cas cried out and twisted away from Dean. He stared at him with an accusing expression before he stood and looked down at the ground. "I should go."

"No. Cas." Dean reached out, grabbing at Cas's coat. Oversized as it was, the coat came off easily. Seeing an opportunity, Dean yanked Cas's shirt down to expose part of his shoulder. Before Cas could get away, Dean caught a glimpse of the bruising along his back. "Son of a bitch."

"Dean."

"Who did that to you? And why?"

"Let it go."

"I'm not going to let it go. This is bullshit. Was it the assholes at school?"

Cas looked up at that, his eyes fierce. "Dean, I got those guys off you. You really think anyone at school could have done anything to me?"

"Then who?" Cas was quiet. "Was it one of your brothers?" Cas looked away. "It was, wasn't it? Well, that's fucked. Do they beat on you-"

"No. Dean. It's not what you think. I disobeyed, and I was corrected. I knew what was going to happen if I came here, and I did it anyway. It was my fault."

Dean was dumbfounded. He couldn't wrap his head around the way the other boy was talking. "You weren't supposed to come here yesterday? Your brother kicked your ass for coming to visit me in the hospital?"

"Raphael thinks I'm bothering you."

"Well, you aren't. You saved my life. What the hell." His stomach twisted. What was this idiot doing taking beatings just to see him? "Are you disobeying now?"

"No." Cas's lip quirked at one corner. He lifted his head, staring out into space as he spoke. "I may have offered to help Ms. Harvelle take her things to her car just as Raphael came to get me. She told Raphael that it was nice I was being so helpful."

Dean huffed. It didn't hurt as much as it had the day before. "You're a crafty one, Cas."

The other boy glanced askance at him, his grin widening, and Dean felt an odd sort of lurch in his chest. It didn't hurt, which was odd. Most everything about his chest hurt, but this didn't. Made him feel kind of warm, actually. "It's still fucked up. Those bruises are fucked up. You should tell someone. _I_ should tell someone."

"Don't." Cas's voice was a command. "I know our family is not like others. I'm not an idiot. I know most families don't work the way ours does, on strict obedience, but you must understand. Raphael was only worried because I'm acting a lot like our brother Luc. It's likely Luc will never be out of prison. Do you understand Raphael is trying to keep me from the same path?"

Dean eyed the other boy because he didn't. He really didn't. He did what his father told him maybe more than a lot of boys his age would, but John would have understood if he went to visit someone in the hospital. "You weren't doing anything wrong. You're a damn hero, man. Why is your brother acting like you're one of the assholes who put me in here?"

"It has to do with why I was out there in the first place. The man I was with, Balthazar, isn't someone Raphael approves of. He's convinced I was, er… near trouble because I was with him, and so he's being very careful about where I am and who I'm with."

"He thinks I might be a shady character? Sure, I can get behind that. Some idiot gets himself stabbed is usually doing something to cause it." Dean frowned as he thought about Sam and the company he'd been keeping. "I'm a bad influence."

"You're a good person." Cas's words were so earnest, Dean had to resist the urge to duck his head in embarrassment.

"Yeah, well. Again, you saved my bacon. You didn't deserve to get beaten for it."

"That's not-"

"I know, I know. You disobeyed. Whatever. It's still fucked."

"My brother loves me. Perhaps he overreacted-"

"You think?"

"-but he does love me."

Dean couldn't say anything. He'd had pretty much the same conversation when he dragged himself to Bobby's the night John came home after Sam had disappeared. Bobby had been livid with John, but how could Dean blame his father for doing what he'd done? Dean's one job was to watch Sam and he'd failed. The whole reason he was in the hospital at all was because he'd failed again.

So while Dean couldn't understand why Cas deserved what he got, he could understand families and expectations weren't black and white. "Yeah, well. He should get used to the idea I'm not as bad an influence as he thinks. I mean, unless your family is the kind of family who believes Star Wars advocates witchcraft or something like that."

Cas cocked his head. "What?"

Dean cleared his throat, nervous for reasons he couldn't figure out. "Look, I've been thinking. Watching Star Wars is a prerequisite to... I don't know, life. I owe you for the whole stopping me from bleeding out thing, so I was going to ask you… When I get out of here, maybe you could come over or something."

"That would be nice. Balthazar is really my only friend, and I can't see him right now." Cas eyed him. "Perhaps you need tutoring to catch up with the work you've missed."

It took Dean a few seconds to catch up. He realized Cas's brother would find it harder to say no if Cas was coming over under the guise of tutoring. "Yeah. Exactly."

"I'll ask," Cas promised.

_**~0~**_

It was another week before Dean was out of the hospital and Cas could come over.

"I don't understand. Why are we starting on episode four?" Cas was confused as the gold writing scrolled across a black starfield.

"Because four came first. The first star wars came out in 1977. Episode One didn't come out until 1999."

Then Cas was very confused.

Sam bust out laughing and Dean paused the video so he could turn to Cas. "Look, just roll with it. Believe me, you don't need to know anything that happens in episodes one through-" He cut off with a gasp, and his hand went to his side as his face pinched with pain.

"Dean," Cas and Sam said at the same time. Cas put his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"I'm fine." Dean waved them both away, but he bent forward, still gripping his side.

"You should lay down," Cas said.

"Nah. I'm okay. There's no room for us all to sit if I lay down anyway."

"I'll sit on the floor." Before Dean could protest, Cas slid onto the floor, stretching his legs out beneath the coffee table.

Dean grumbled but he stretched his legs across Cas's vacated spot on the loveseat.

"You should have listened to the doctors, Dean," Sam said, frowning as he looked over his brother. "They wanted to keep you for at least another day."

"There's no damn reason for that. I can lay around and not go to school for another week without having my ass on display in one of those nifty hospital gowns." He opened one eye to smirk at his brother. "Though I brought one just for you, Sammy. It'll come in useful this summer when it's hot."

Sam made a face. "It's Flagstaff. It doesn't get that hot here, and I've already seen your ass. It's burned into the my brain, which sucks for me."

"Whatever. Are we ready?"

Cas was amused at the brothers' antics. He'd almost forgotten what he was doing there. As he'd rarely been to anyone's house outside friends of his family, it should have been awkward. Somehow, with the Winchester boys, it wasn't. He felt welcome.

"Pay attention, Cas. This is important. What they tell you about math, that you're going to use it in your life after school is a lie, but this will get you far. Hell, it might get you laid. I know Sammy is hoping to catch himself a geek girl with some crappy line." He put on a voice. "Hey, baby. You wanna see my lightsaber?"

"Shut. Up. Dean." Sam threw a pillow, but after that the boys settled again.

The movie was amusing enough, Cas supposed. Cas wasn't used to concentrating on movies, so his mind wandered. It wasn't difficult seeing as Dean and Sam both quoted along. Cas liked the way Dean tapped on his shoulder every few minutes. "Oh, man. Wait for this part, you're going to love it," he would say, and, "I love jawas," and, "Oh, shit. Obi Wan's not as harmless as he looks," and, "Sammy, what the fuck. You know better than to put in this special edition bullshit." To Cas he said, "Greedo did not shoot first. Han did. That's what makes him Han Fucking Solo."

When Cas asked questions, Dean would get flustered trying to explain things and chastise him about paying attention at he same time. "Dammit, Cas. It's a movie, that's why the TIE fighters scream in space, and it's fucking cool. Pay attention. This is a great fucking line, and you're going to miss it. Damn."

He and Sam hummed the finale, and when Cas asked why Chewbacca didn't get a medal, Dean ruffled his hair and laughed. "That was before the Wookie Civil Rights movement. Sammy. Switch it out."

"Something wrong with your feet?"

"Bitch. I got stabbed."

"Did you get stabbed in your feet?"

"Sammy. If you make me get up, you're going to regret it."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Sam hauled himself up to change the DVD.

Dean tapped on Cas's shoulder to make sure he had his attention. "Now you gotta pay attention to this one, Cas. George Lucas is a genius at storytelling, awesome businessman, real all around creative dude. But the man cannot write or direct worth shit. Star Wars, Return of the Jedi, all fucking three of the prequels… they're fun flicks. But Empire is a masterpiece. Pay attention."

"Okay, Dean."

And Cas did pay attention until he felt a soft touch against the back of his neck. Fingertips against his nape. Cas's breath caught, and the strangest sensation went down his spine. He had never been more aware of his body than he was as that very moment.

He froze, horrified. And excited. And uncertain because why? Why was Dean touching him like this? Should he let him continue?

It didn't feel bad. No. It definitely didn't feel bad.

Cas might have even tilted his head, just to see what the sensation felt like on a different part of his neck. But he didn't know what he should do or what he really wanted to do.

Then Dean snored, his hand resting against Cas's shoulder, and Cas felt very stupid. Asleep. He was just asleep.

Cas should have known. Dean had been quiet. That should have been his first clue.

He tried to concentrate on the movie. He tried to ignore the warm weight of Dean's hand against his skin.

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to songster, baburella, and everydaybella**

**Thanks to all of you for your encouragement. Let me know how I'm doing!**


	8. Unexpected

**A/N: Man. It's been a good couple weeks to be a Destiel fan, eh?**

* * *

"Dean, if you would just concentrate for an hour, we could probably get a whole packet done." Cas was exasperated with his charge. Dean would not sit still. He kept leaning over the kitchen table so he could see the TV. Cas had even gone as far to sit in front of him, blocking his view.

"I got stabbed you know. Right here." Dean lifted his shirt.

Cas was distracted by the strip of skin above his belt. He blinked sporadically and looked up at Dean. A guilty man couldn't look anyone in the eyes. That was what Raphael always said. "I was there when you were stabbed, Dean. I know where your injuries were."

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's a line from _Firefly_."

"I don't understand-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You don't understand that reference." He brightened. "Hey, that's no problem. _Firefly_ is on Netflix. We'll just boot it up." He leaned on the table to get up, his eyes already straying toward the living room.

Cas didn't think about what he was doing. He reached out and grabbed Dean's belt loop, hauling him backward. Dean, still not up to his usual coordination, lost his balance when he turned around to bat Cas's hand away. He fell. Cas caught him awkwardly so Dean was leaned up against him, one hand on the table, the other on Cas's shoulder.

Time stopped.

Dean's face was so close to his, Cas could feel his hot breath against his skin. He could see the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Cas tilted his head purely on instinct. They were so close, their lips brushed. It was the barest hint of a touch, but to Cas, it was fireworks, heat, a thrill that went down his spine and directly to his…

Cas stood up. He had just enough presence of mind to keep Dean steady as he maneuvered around him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that."

Dean was staring at him in uncharacteristic silence.

"I'm trying to help you, Dean. I'm just trying to help you. It's important. All this is important. If you're going to pass, you have to study. You-"

Dean reached forward, grabbing Cas by his shirt.

Cas was terrified. He was resigned to the fact Dean was going to hit him. That was just logic and science. For every action there was an equal and opposite reaction. He wasn't an idiot. He knew what could happen when a boy kissed a boy like Dean. What scared him was the idea Dean would kick him out of his house and out of his life.

As Cas scrambled to figure out what to say to make it right, Dean pulled him forward. Cas got a flash of wild, green eyes before Dean was kissing him. Cas's apologies were drowned against the other boy's mouth. He was shocked at first, too shocked to do anything but stand there with his hands up, at a loss for what to do with them. Then he groaned. He moved his hands to Dean's face and stroked his cheeks as he kissed him back with gusto.

As soon as it started, it stopped. Sam moved upstairs and Dean pushed Cas to arm's length. They stared at each other until Sam's feet hit the bottom of the stairs, and then Dean pushed off the table. He walked with a quick gait to the refrigerator, and he had his head in it when Sam strolled in. Cas sat heavily in his chair and pretended to concentrate on his homework.

He wished he was the one with his head in the refrigerator. His face felt like it was on fire.

"When's dinner?" Sam asked, oblivious to the fact the air was so thick. Cas couldn't move.

Dean cleared his throat. "You're um… you're hungry again?"

"Growing boy, I guess." Cas heard a crunch that was likely Sam biting into an apple. When Sam put his hand on his shoulder, Cas started. "What's wrong with you, Cas? You look pissed."

Cas's head snapped up. "I'm not. I'm not pissed. Why would I be angry?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, the apple still held to his mouth. He crunched again and chewed slowly. "Dude. Calm down. What's up with you?"

Dean slammed the refrigerator door. "Leave Cas alone, Sammy. It's hard trying to get things through my thick skull." His voice was still gruffer than usual, but it wasn't shaking the way it had been a moment before.

"Yeah that has to suck."

"Go do your homework, Sammy. I'll figure out dinner.

"My homework is done. I'm much smarter than you, remember?"

"Then go watch TV. I'm sure there's something nerdy on."

"You were watching _Star Trek_ yesterday. You know that right?"

"Sam! Get out of my face, would you?"

Suspicion came over Sam's face. "What the heck were you guys doing in here?"

Cas scrubbed the back of his neck and looked back at his books.

"Don't be such a pest. Let the big boys talk. Little boys go out and watch cartoons."

"Whatever," Sam muttered, but he shoved off the counter and headed back upstairs.

Dean slumped over the opposite counter, his head in his hands. "Fuck me." He shook his head back and forth on his arms.

Cas just watched. He had no criteria for what was going on. What was the decorum? What was he supposed to think? More importantly, what was he supposed to do?

What he wanted more than anything was to kiss Dean again. It was every other thought racing through his mind at about a million miles an hour. His other thoughts ranged from a panicked _what now_ to wondering what Dean was going to say to dreading what Raphael would say about all of this.

All that last week and a half, since they were watching Star Wars and Dean's hand was soft and warm against his neck, Cas had been having impure thoughts, dangerous thoughts. How often had Raphael railed against lustful thoughts? Distracting, he said, and perverted.

He was right about the distracting part.

Dean let out a long, slow breath before he raised his head. He still wasn't looking at Cas as he spoke. "I'm sorry, man. I have no idea what the fuck just happened. I… you were so close, and I didn't think at all. I have no idea… I mean, I'm not like that. I don't… I like girls. And you're my friend."

Cas licked his lips as though he could still taste Dean there. "Teenagers have poor impulse control." He felt numb as he spoke. "It was just a reaction to our proximity."

Dean searched him. "We're okay?" He sounded uncertain, and Cas wondered if Dean valued their friendship the same way he did.

This thought cheered him slightly. He remembered his fear from mere minutes before that something between them was irrevocably broken and he'd lost his only friend. Dean had plenty of friends, but it was obvious he didn't want to lose Cas. Not over this.

That much Cas would gladly grant him. "Of course, Dean. We're fine."

"Good." Dean went to the pantry and started pulling out what he needed to make dinner. "Now let's forget that ever happened."

Cas had no idea why his chest ached so much. "Of course."

_**~0~**_

"You doin' alright, son?"

Dean looked over at Bobby. "I'm bored," he complained.

"Well, suck it up, Princess. You'll be fully operational before too long. Besides, you want to work with me, you're going to have to learn how to do the boring stuff like paperwork and making sure all the tools are in place." Bobby pushed himself out from under the car he was working on and sat up. "At least you're back to school, right?"

"Oh, yeah. School's a real party."

"Yeah, I'd imagine it's not too much fun playing catch up."

Dean fiddled with the wrench set, cleaning off minute specks of dirt and oil. "Actually, I'm doing okay. Cas made sure I didn't fall behind."

He could feel Bobby's eyes on him. The old man always seemed to see right through him. "Uh huh," he said. "That kid's a good friend."

"Yeah, Cas is good people." Dean couldn't help his smile. He cleared his throat, going back to rearranging and cleaning the tools. "Anyway. School's fine. It's all kind of surreal. People look at me either like I'm some kind of goddamn hero or like they're expecting me to go postal or something."

"Must make you popular with the girls, though. The ladies like a dangerous guy."

Dean flashed his uncle a grin. "I'm always popular with the ladies."

"Alright, Casanova, settle down." Bobby shook his head and got back under his car. "Sam said Lisa's been over several times."

"Yeah. She's a nice girl."

"But you're not interested?"

"Come on, Bobby. All this grunting, and groaning, and crying at physical therapy ain't exactly sexy. Then we gotta figure out lawyers just in case that asshole comes at me." He huffed. "I got a lot on my mind."

"You're a kid, Dean. You shouldn't worry so much."

"Yeah, well."

"Go out with Lisa. Have some fun." Bobby paused. "Or hell, go out with Cas."

Dean's fingers paused over his work. "What?" The word came out sharper than he'd intended. "What are you talking about?"

"It's been a hell of a long time since you've had a friend of your own, Dean. You're so wrapped up in Sam."

"Oh. Oh, yeah." Dean's cheeks felt hot. "Yeah, whatever. Maybe."

He thought he heard Bobby laugh, but he couldn't be sure.

_**~0~**_

Dean set dinner down in front of Sam and sat across from him at the table. Sam had that constipated expression, like he was bothered about something.

Then again, when was Sam not bothered about something?

"This looks very good, Dean," Cas said as he settled down on the third side of the table.

Dean was distracted from his brother by the warm, pleased feeling that curled in his gut at Cas's words. He shifted in his seat, inwardly wondering what the heck was wrong with him. He'd expected it to be awkward since he accidentally kissed Cas, but it wasn't. It was… weird. He was always hyper-aware of his friend. It was weird and bizarre.

But not unpleasant.

"It's just spaghetti," was all he said.

"My mother never made good spaghetti." Cas sounded thoughtful.

Sam snorted. "Yeah. Dad sucks at spaghetti. I was glad when Dean started making it instead." He grimaced. "Now he makes everything."

"Don't start that, Sam. You know Dad does the best he can for us."

"Whatever," Sam muttered to his plate.

"So I've been thinking about Thanksgiving," Dean said, changing the subject.

"That doesn't surprise me. You're always thinking about food."

"Shaddup, Sammy." Dean noticed Sam's nervous body language and wondered if he'd stumbled on whatever was bothering his brother. "I got two words for you: pumpkin pie. Oooh and pecan pie."

Cas chuckled and Sam smiled, but then he shook his head. "You can't bake a pie."

"Who said anything about baking? We can buy pie. There is nothing wrong with a store bought pie."

"They don't sell pie at KFC."

"We could switch it up, go to Denny's instead of KFC."

Sam looked down at his plate, twirling spaghetti around his fork. "You think Dad's going to be home this year?"

"He's always home for Thanksgiving, Sammy. You know that."

His brother scoffed. "He missed Christmas last year. You think any holiday is safe?" He was silent for another handful of seconds. "He has to go to Wisconsin a lot. Have you noticed that?"

"Sam," Dean groaned.

"I'm just saying." Again there was that nervous shift in his seat. "You really like Thanksgiving, Dean?"

"As previously mentioned, I really like food."

"Yeah, but I mean, do you really like the whole… thing. Being with family and everything. Being with me."

"You're okay sometimes. What are you getting at?"

Sam shrugged. "I met a girl. Her name is Jessica. She's nice. Not like Ruby."

"Well, thank God for that. Do you want to invite her over for Thanksgiving or something?"

Sam huffed. "Yeah, right. I'm sure she'd be super impressed by Denny's. No, she invited me over to her family's for dinner."

"Oh."

"I don't have to go if-"

"Naw, Sam." Dean mustered a smile. "I bet they even bake their own pies."

"No idea."

"I want to meet Jessica first." After last time, Dean wasn't taking any chances.

"Whatever, Dean. She's really nice. She plays D&D." His smile was goofy. "Isn't that awesome?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Awesome. Sure. We'll go with that."

After dinner, Sam meandered off, and Cas got ready to go home.

"That was a very nice thing you did for Sam," Cas said, when they walked to the door. "You'll be alone without Sam, won't you?"

Dean shoved his hands deep in his pockets and shrugged. "My dad should be home." Dean wasn't counting on it, but it didn't mean it wouldn't happen."Doesn't matter anyway. We always eat too much chicken, pass out on the couch in front of the game. Nothing exciting."

"What about Bobby?"

"Bobby doesn't like the holidays. It reminds him of his wife. His wife died. Did I ever tell you that?" Dean kicked at a scuff on the floor. "Guess it's just not a good idea to marry a Winchester guy, huh?"

"He has a different father than your father, doesn't he? He's a Singer."

Dean ran a hand over his eyes and laughed. "Dammit, Cas. You know what I mean."

"I'm just saying, I wouldn't worry about Winchester men being cursed."

Dean pursed his lips, amused in spite of himself.

"You're a good brother, Dean. A good son." Cas squeezed his shoulder. "I would invite you to my house for Thanksgiving, but…"

"Your brother doesn't like me."

"My brother doesn't like anybody." Cas smirked. "But my family is a little much for me. I wouldn't want to subject you to that. In any event, we'll be spending most of Thanksgiving at the soup kitchen."

"Sounds like a good time." Dean offered his friend a small smile. "I'm fine, Cas. Thanks though."

When Cas dropped his hand back down to his side, Dean felt an odd ache in his chest. As he watched Cas walk away, he had the urge to call him back.

* * *

**A/N:Thanks so much to barburella, everydaybella, and songster51**

**How we feeling out there, folks? *crickets***


	9. Happy Thanksgiving

**A/N: Phew. Got it in just under the wire for Dean and Cas's anniversary. Hehehe**

* * *

"Yeah, Dad. I get it. Work comes first. You have to put a roof over our heads and food on the table."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Sam was at the table, glaring down at his cereal like it owed him something. Dean watched his jaw work as he ground his teeth. Their father sighed. "It's just Thanksgiving, right? No big deal?"

"Nah," Dean said, ignoring the ache at the center of his chest. "Be safe out there on the road, Dad."

"I will. Take care of your brother."

"I always do." Dean hung up the phone. His eyes stung, and that annoyed him.

"He's not coming, right?" Sam said.

"Don't say I told you so."

"I wasn't going to."

"Yeah, well. Those are your I told you so eyes." Dean sighed and rubbed his temple. "Hurry up and finish your breakfast. We're going to be late for school."

Sam just stirred his cereal. "I can stay for Thanksgiving. I can tell Jessica today."

"Don't be stupid, Sam. You already told her you were going."

"But-"

"It's fine. It'll be nice to have a little time to myself- no annoying little brother around."

Sam grinned and shoved him. "Whatever, asshole. You know you love me."

"Yeah, it's a curse."

_**~0~**_

After Dean dropped Sam off at Jessica's house on Thanksgiving Day, he turned the Impala towards home. He tried to concentrate on feeling happy for Sam. He'd met Jessica some days before. She gave off the exact opposite vibe Ruby had. She was still whip smart and spiky enough to keep Sam on his toes, but without the darkness he'd seen in Ruby. She made him smile. Ruby just made him nervous.

She'd be good for Sam, he thought, and that should have been the most important thing. But the closer Dean got to home, the more loneliness tugged at him. Resentment churned in his stomach. Even though he wanted Sam to enjoy himself, liked that Sam was making friends who weren't going to end up stabbing him to death, he wanted his brother to come home. If their places were reversed, Dean never would have left Sam.

It was a selfish thing to think, and Dean hated himself for it. Still, when he drove up to their empty house, he couldn't bring himself to go in. He thought about going to Bobby's after all. Bobby was teaching him how to work on cars. Maybe they could distract each other. It was more likely Bobby would want to be drunk though, and who was Dean to get in the way of a good drinking binge?

He drummed the steering wheel for another minute before he took his phone from his pocket and pulled up Google.

_**~0~**_

Helping those in need was supposed to feel good. For the most part, for Castiel, it did feel good. He would smile at the poor and downtrodden who came through their line. He tried to talk to them. Once, a year or two before, a homeless man had told him a face to face conversation where the other person looked him right in the eyes was just as much nourishment as the lean slices of turkey on his tray.

"Castiel. These people want to eat. Show some respect and let them get through the line," Raphael said.

Samandriel poked him before Castiel could snap at his elder brother. He grinned and stood on his tiptoes to whisper in Castiel's ear. "He's just mad because everyone likes Michael better." He nodded to where Michael was smiling and shaking hands with a few men and women at the end of the line. "He thinks Michael isn't doing any of the work."

Castiel gave his little brother a warm smile. He was about to turn back to his duty when a commotion at the front of the shelter drew his attention.

"Look, man, I'm not trying to scam you. I just want to say hello to someone."

"Dean?" Cas took off his gloves as he made his way out from behind the tables. Sure enough, two of the organizers were trying to block Dean from entering.

"Cas," he called, raising his hand to wave. He looked annoyed, but he spared a smile for Cas. "I just came to say hi. I thought this was a soup kitchen not a prison."

"He's your friend?" one of the organizers asked.

"Yes. He's a good guy. You won't have any trouble from him."

Dean smirked at the organizer. "Yeah, see? I'm a good guy." He shouldered by the two and over to Cas's side.

"Sorry. We get a lot of punk ass kids trying to score a free meal."

"Yeah, well, I'm not hungry."

Cas tilted his head and studied his friend. "What are you doing here, anyway? Where's your father."

Dean's smile faltered though he tried valiantly to keep it in place. "Ah, Dad had to work and I was bored. Figured I'd come keep you company if that's allowed."

"Castiel." Raphael appeared behind Cas, making him grimace. "Are you here to work or play?"

"Dean just came to say hello."

Cas wanted to step in front of Dean to shield him from Raphael's cold, assessing stare. "So you're Dean Winchester. I've heard much about you."

Dean stared back, his eyes just as hard. "Yeah well, don't believe everything you hear." To Cas's surprise, Dean slung his arm around his shoulders in a haphazard fashion and patted him on the chest. "Your brother here has told me a lot about you too."

Raphael's eyes flicked from Dean to Cas and back. "You're not needy and you're distracting Castiel from his work. Perhaps it's best if you move on."

"Don't be so hard on the kids, Raphael," Michael said, walking up to them. He turned away from Raphael's scowl and offered a hand to Dean. "I'm Michael."

"Dean Winchester."

"How are you feeling, Dean? Are you healing well?"

"I'm doing okay. Little pain, but that's getting better. Guess you could say I have a lot to be thankful for."

"Thank God you survived," Michael agreed.

Dean shook his head. "No offense to your beliefs or anything, but God wasn't the one holding my guts in. That was Cas." He clapped Cas on the shoulder and grinned at him. "So thanks for that."

Cas's lips turned up, though he glanced back at his brothers, nervous somehow about their reaction to Dean. For some reason, he wanted very much for Michael and Raphael to like his friend.

"Castiel, it's time to get back to work," Raphael said. "Your friend has said hello-"

"I'm sure Dean can help. He has two hands," Michael interrupted.

"He doesn't have to-" Cas tried to argue, but Dean cut him off.

"No, it's cool. I don't have anything planned. I might as well be helpful, right? What do I do?"

Raphael looked like he was about to explode. "Castiel, get your friend an apron and gloves._ Someone _has to keep serving." With that, he stormed off and snapped an order at Samandriel before he got back in line.

Michael shook his head. "Don't mind Raphael. It's good of you to help, Dean."

"Come on," Cas said said, tugging on Dean's arm. "We should wash our hands."

"Man, what's the deal with your brothers? I mean, Michael seems nice enough, but it still was like they were both about ready to whip their dicks out to be measured."

Cas snorted. "That's an astute observation. Since my father disappeared they, uh… I suppose they've been vying for position as the head of the house. Raphael doesn't think Michael should hold that position as he went far away for college."

"Gee, what a dick." Dean's tone was sarcastic as he bent to wash his hands in the basin. Cas had to laugh.

"Yes, well. The result is what you see. Michael constantly reminds Raphael he's the little brother and it makes Raphael angry."

"I get the idea a lot makes Raphael angry. I bet he digs the wrathful part of the Bible, eh?"

Cas smirked and handed Dean an apron. "You don't have to help, you know."

Dean shrugged. "I got nothing better to do. Why not, you know? I got more than these poor bastards." He looked up and winked at Cas. "Besides, I bet I look cuter than you in an apron." He spread his arms wide. "Huh? Yeah?"

Cas's cheeks felt warm at the idea Dean thought he looked cute in an apron. "Sure, Dean."

_**~0~**_

Working at the soup kitchen was surprisingly rewarding, even with Raphael's little snips. Dean had a good time making a game of making Cas break his serious expression. Often, Samandriel would laugh with them. The fact that it seemed to piss Raphael off was an added bonus. That guy could stand to lose the stick up his ass, and he told Cas so when they were washing up.

"He has his moments," Cas said.

"Yeah, like what?"

"He's my brother."

Dean looked down. He tried to imagine being someone's little brother, being taken care of. The idea had its appeal, though he couldn't imagine there was a soft, fluffy side of Raphael. "Yeah well… What are you going to do now?"

"Oh, I suppose-"

Cas was interrupted by his cellphone ringing. He put it to his ear. "Hello, Balthazar.

"

Dean raised his eyebrow. Balthazar? he mouthed.

"Cassy, Cassy." The voice on the phone was loud enough for Dean to hear. Of course, it probably helped that he'd stepped close to Cas, never one to give up the chance to be obnoxious. "Have you had dinner, yet?"

"No, but-"

"Well, I'm taking you out, and I won't have no for an answer. It's been too long. Don't let it go to your head, but I've missed you."

"I'm sure Raphael won't let me."

Dean rolled his eyes and he thought he heard Balthazar sigh. "Cas, you'll be eighteen a week before Christmas. Don't you think it's time you start making a few decisions on your own?"

Dean looked at Cas. "It's your birthday in a couple weeks?"

"Who was that?" Balthazar asked.

Cas looked flustered. "A friend. I'm with a friend."

"I see. Well, bring him along."

"I'm sure he doesn't want-"

"I'm game. Who doesn't want to know a dude named Balthazar, huh?" Dean said. He enjoyed the sour look Cas fixed him with.

"See, Cas? Who doesn't want to know a guy like me?"

"I'm sure that's not what Dean said." Cas sighed. "Raphael-"

"Hey, it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission," Balthazar said.

Dean frowned and stepped back from the phone so Balthazar couldn't hear him. "If you took off, would your brother feel the need to correct you?"

Cas stared at him in that way of his for a prolonged moment before he answered. "Michael is home tonight. Michael wouldn't let him… overreact."

"Then let's do this thing."

_**~0~**_

"Oh. I know you. Last I saw you, you were bleeding all over my hands," Balthazar said as a greeting when they were safely around the corner from the soup kitchen.

Dean blinked at him. "That was you?"

"I told you I was with Balthazar that day," Cas said. "You had too many wounds and I had too few hands."

"Normally, I'd be thrilled to to have Cas tell me where to put my hands," Balthazar said, turning his head to wink at Cas.

Dean's head spun as he tried to process that comment. Was Balthazar flirting with Cas? He squirmed in his seat. "Well, uh… I guess I owe you thanks too. I like not being dead."

Balthazar glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "Truth be told, I probably would have kept on driving even if I had seen you. Cas is such a bossy thing." He reached out and ruffled Cas's hair. "All things being equal though, happy to have helped."

The man drove them to an upscale restaurant where Dean had never felt more underdressed in his life. In fact, Dean couldn't remember a time when he'd been so aware of his clothes at all. He didn't think much about clothes. It was clear from Balthazar's appearance that he very much did.

They were served the most fancy Thanksgiving dinner Dean had ever seen. He would have considered green bean casserole made solely from cans of soup and canned green beans a delicacy. This was above and beyond.

"Dig in, dig in. Plenty where that came from," Balthazar said. He was sitting next to Cas, and he kept touching him. They were little touches. He stroked his hair or patted his hand. It was distracting.

It didn't seem to bother Cas.

"They have the best pie here, believe it or not. Any pie you want for dessert. Pumpkin, Pecan, Apple. We're supposed to stuff ourselves silly." As Balthazar spoke, he stroked the hair at the nape of Cas's neck. Dean couldn't seem to take his eyes off the sight. That is until he heard Balthazar chuckle. "You like pie, don't you, Dean?"

Dean looked up. For some reason, his throat was tight and his fingers itched to curl into fists.

Balthazar looked amused. "Well, if you don't like pie, they have a variety of desserts to choose from. It's not as traditional, but who cares much for tradition, eh?" He rested his hand on Cas's shoulder and tilted his head suggestively at Dean. "Personally, I think tradition is overrated."

Dean wanted to argue. He understood Balthazar thought he was uncomfortable with his open affection toward Cas. Dean was no bigot, but when he opened his mouth, he realized he had no explanation for why he was so disturbed by the simple touches.

Cas raised his head from his plate, fixing Dean with a perplexed expression. "You love pie, Dean."

"Yeah." He cleared his throat and looked down at his delicious dinner. "Tradition is overrated, but not when it comes to pie."

"All three then," Balthazar said. Because Dean was looking down, he saw when the man dropped his hand to rest on Cas's thigh. From under his eyelashes, he saw Cas glance at Balthazar, but then he turned his attention back to his food.

His throat got tighter.

Dean had never thought of himself as bigoted. In fact, when John, a former marine, made colorful comments when he saw two men holding hands or gay characters on television, Dean had thought more than once about calling him out. His father wasn't hateful- he was all for marriage equality- but he was demonstrably uncomfortable with any public displays of 'that kind of thing.' He was in the hypocritical 'they shouldn't make us look at it' portion of society, and while Dean agreed with his father on many things, that had never been one of them. Scenes with two men or two women- well, maybe especially two women- on television didn't bother him in the slightest.

Then again, he'd never seen anything like that right in front of him.

Dean wasn't sure what to make of his tangled thoughts, or what it meant about Cas. Dean had done his best to push his memories of that kiss from weeks before. He'd felt so bad about what he'd done. He'd been so scared Cas would run away from him. But what if Cas liked kissing boys? Dean wasn't an idiot. He understood that just because some boys liked to kiss boys didn't mean they wanted to kiss him, but…

But Cas had kissed him first. Kind of. Not the same way but kind of. Then, when Dean kissed him, he remembered Cas's hands on his face. He wasn't trying to push him away, he was stroking Dean's cheeks. Had he been into it?

If he had, what did that mean?

Dean busied himself stuffing his face. Dinner was delicious, after all. And true to his word, Balthazar did order three different kinds of pie, all of which Dean sampled.

After dinner, Balthazar drove them back to the soup kitchen where Dean's car was parked. Dean stumbled out of Balthazar's car holding his stomach and groaning. "Sweet baby Jesus. I'm going to die. That was your plan, wasn't it?" He pointed an accusing finger at Balthazar. "I had a perforated stomach, you know. I thought it was healed, but now I'm not so sure. I might have unhealed it." Dean threw himself down on his back on the hood of his car, his arms spread out.

He heard a car door open and shut. "Cassy?" Balthazar said. "Come home and have a bit of fun with me."

Dean's stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with how much he'd eaten.

"I think I should make sure Dean gets home without exploding. I'll call you soon, though."

A smile spread wide across Dean's face before he could think twice. He raised his head and his grin only got wider at the less than pleased look on Balthazar's face. "Thanks for dinner, Balthy." He stuck both his thumbs up. "A++ will do business again."

As soon as Balthazar drove off, Dean groaned and rested back on the hood with his hands folded over his stomach. He was dimly aware when Cas came to stand next to the car. "Are you okay, Dean?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine. I don't think I'm actually going to explode. I just kind of want to."

"That's not what I mean."

Uh oh. "What do you mean then?"

"You were quiet at dinner tonight."

"So?"

"Dean, you're never quiet."

"Oh." He groaned as he sat up. "I was trying to give you guys some space."

Cas tilted his head and furrowed his brow. "Space for what?"

This was so not a conversation Dean wanted to have. He shrugged. "I was trying not to be the third wheel."

Cas looked thoughtful. "You know, I've never understood why a third wheel was supposed to be so bad. It adds greater stability, doesn't it?"

Dean ducked his head to hide his grin as he shook his head. "Yeah, dumbass. The point is, if something's doing fine with two wheels, a third wheel is just hanging around not contributing anything."

"So you stayed quiet because you thought you were a third wheel and your job was not to contribute anything?"

Dean groaned and smacked his forehead with his palm. "Dammit, Cas. Was he your… Was he your boyfriend before?"

Cas's eyes went wide. "What? Why would you think that?"

"I mean… Balthazar is gay, isn't he?"

To his surprise, Cas laughed. "Balthazar is utterly indifferent to the gender of his partners." His look turned serious and he stared steadily at Dean again. "But why would you think that makes him _my _boyfriend."

Dean's words were tangled. "Do you like boys like that?"

Cas blinked, his face going, if anything, more expressionless than usual. "I don't know. I hadn't thought about it."

"Really?"

Cas shrugged and looked off in the distance. "Would it be a problem if I was? Would that make you uncomfortable?"

"No," Dean said too quickly.

"Well then?"

Dean was quiet for a long minute. Then he shrugged. "Yeah. It's cool. We're cool."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks so much to songster and barburella**


	10. Happy Birthday, Cas

**A/N: Less than a week to season 9! Who's excited! I'm excited. RA!**

* * *

After Dean went back to school, he'd offered to pick up Cas and Samandriel. Winter in Flagstaff was bitterly cold, but Raphael wasn't happy when he heard of the arrangement.

"Suffering is part of life, Castiel," he said. "A walk through the cold of winter is hardly suffering. You don't need to be so spoiled."

When Cas reported back to Dean, his friend had only snorted. "Fuck that. He drives to work, doesn't he? What a hypocrite. You and Samandriel walk around the corner. I'll pick you up there, and Suffer The Little Children doesn't have to know."

It was Friday morning, and Cas was in a good mood despite the day. He got his lunch ready and Samandriel's, and even went to far as to offer his elder brother a cup of coffee.

Raphael looked bemused, which was a step up from dour. "You're unusually buoyant today, Castiel."

"I realize teenagers are supposed to be moody and sullen, but we do throw in the occasional happy day."

Raphael raised an eyebrow, but he didn't comment further. Noting the time, Cas hurried into the hallway. "Sammy," he called. "Hurry up. We're going to be late."

His little brother came pounding down the stairs, backpack bouncing. "I'm ready."

"Castiel." Raphael had reappeared in the door to the hallway.

Cas stiffened. "Yes?"

When he raised his head, Cas was surprised to see an uncertain look on Raphael's face. "Would you like a ride to school today."

Beside him, Samandriel made a noise of surprise that echoed Cas's own shock. "I…" His instinct was to say yes, not only because he was accustomed to acquiescing to his brother, but because an act of kindness from him was so rare. But on the other hand, Dean was waiting for him. "I was looking forward to the walk."

Raphael stared. "It's freezing outside."

"As you said, a little suffering brings into focus all I have. Thank you for the offer, but you were right. It does start the day off right."

Suspicion passed Raphael's features, and Cas was positive his brother could see right through him. He only nodded. "Happy Birthday, little brother."

"Thank you." Cas reached out to touch Samandriel's shoulder. "Come on, Sammy."

Samandriel was quiet until they were a few houses down. "You know something?"

"I know many things."

His brother rolled his eyes. "No one makes you smile like Dean does."

Cas's step faltered. "What?"

"You were smiling this morning until Raphael said he wanted to take you to school, and now you're smiling again. I think it's because of Dean."

Cas was silent. There was no double meaning in Samandriel's words. He was a straightforward child, and if there was a double meaning behind his words, he would have gone into further detail. Instead, he was already on to other things. He had swapped his backpack around to the front and was digging through it. "I got you a present for your birthday."

"You didn't have to do that."

"It's not a big deal." He handed Cas a large but flat package wrapped in newspaper. He grinned, proud of himself. "I got it because I thought you would like it and also…" He paused and pressed his lips together for a second, a serious expression coming over his features. "I wanted you to know, I think the things Raphael says about Michael and Gabriel… I don't think he's always right."

Cas glanced at his brother as he loosed the book from its bindings. It was a travel guide to strange, unique, and mysterious places. He flipped it open, surprised.

"I think you should go wherever you want to go, even if Raphael doesn't like it," Samandriel said.

Touched, Cas reached out and pulled his brother under his arm. "Thank you. Really."

Samandriel grinned, pleased that Cas liked his gift. By then, they'd rounded the corner where Dean and Sam waited in the Impala. To Cas's surprise, Sam got out of the front seat. "Shotgun's yours today, Cas," he said.

"Why?" Cas asked even as he got in the car. He took off his mittens and put his hands to the heating vent. He turned to Dean and his breath caught. His friend's eyes were lit with mischief, his smile wide across his face. Fetching, becoming, dead fucking sexy… the words raced through Cas's head unbidden. He blinked them away.

"Happy birthday, Cas," Dean said.

Cas cleared his throat and ducked his head. "You remembered."

"Of course I remembered. It was only two weeks ago." He laughed as he turned the car toward school.

"When's your birthday?"

"Oh, no. I'm not falling for that one."

"It's January twenty-fourth," Sam said.

Dean shook his head and glared at his brother in the rearview mirror.

"It's Jess's birthday too."

Dean looked at Cas. "He won't shut up about this Jess girl."

"Yeah, well, you won't shut up about Cas," Sam muttered so low, Cas wasn't sure he'd understood correctly.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Nothing."

Cas's lips quirked up at one corner at the idea, but he told himself it was just Sam being a pain in the ass younger brother. It was better to pretend he hadn't heard. He hadn't been meant to hear Sam's retort anyway.

Some minutes later, when both Sams were safely delivered to the middle school, Dean glanced over at Cas. "Listen, are you doing anything for your birthday?"

"No, we don't really celebrate our birthdays."

"How did I know you would say that?" Dean snorted. "Let me guess. Celebrating yourself is putting too much importance on yourself or some other self-righteous thing."

Cas was quiet for a long moment. He raised his head to meet Dean's gaze. "My father loved us very much. He took great joy in celebrating each one of us whenever he could but especially on our birthdays. Everybody deserves one day of being celebrated by everyone who loves them and complete strangers." He tilted his head, his look faraway then. "Then Dad disappeared, and those days of celebration seemed odd without him. Then Luc wasn't there. Then Gabriel left us and Michael only checked in rarely. It's difficult to celebrate when half your family is missing. It's too… sad."

"Christ, man. I'm sorry."

Cas looked at him, perplexed. "I was explaining to you why we don't celebrate our birthdays. There's no need to apologize."

Dean stared at him for a few moments longer than Cas thought prudent seeing as he was driving. Then he smiled and looked back to the road. "Well, I think it's time we started a new tradition. Come over after school tonight?"

"Saman-"

"We'll take Samandriel home first."

Cas had to smile because Dean was used to guessing where his priorities were. "Mom would be happy. She doesn't like celebrating without Dad, but I think she feels guilty."

"Yeah, well. Does that mean you'll come?"

"Of course, Dean. If that's what you want."

_**~0~**_

"You'd tell me, right? If your brother would. .. be angry at you staying with me?" Dean was sure Cas wouldn't tell him, but he was also sure when asked directly, his friend wouldn't lie either.

"It is my birthday, after all. I asked Mom instead of Raphael. Besides, I told him it was between you and Balthazar."

Dean pushed away a rush of irritation. "He invited you?"

"He wanted to take me out, but I told him I had plans."

Dean was pleased until he wondered if Cas would have preferred to go with Balthazar. He was too polite for his own good. He wouldn't have blown Dean off even if he wanted to. "Damn right you have plans." He slung his arm around Cas, steering him toward the living room.

John looked up at them from his recliner and raised an eyebrow. "It's Friday night. Aren't you kids going to paint the town red?"

Dean snorted. "Yeah, 'cause Flagstaff has a great nightlife." He looked his father in the eye. "It's Cas's birthday. Jo and Ash are coming over. We were going to have a little fun at home."

"Where's your brother?"

"At a friend's for the night."

John's cheek twitched, but he nodded and got up. "I guess that's my cue. Don't break anything and stay away from the vintage stuff. You have no appreciation for the finer things."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Your dad doesn't care if you drink?" Cas asked, when John had walked out to the garage.

Dean busied himself pulling bottles out of his father's liquor cabinet. "When I was thirteen, Dad caught me sneaking tries of bourbon and whiskey. I told him I'd stop if he would."

"And what did he say?"

"Don't do it around Sam. Never around him and never when it's just the two of us alone."

"He left you alone even then? For days?"

Dean heard the condemnation in Cas's tone and he looked up, ready to defend his father. John did the best he could. He always did the best he could, and wasn't he a cool dad? He was looking the other way as they raided his liquor cabinet and had given them space.

Before he could get into it, though, the doorbell rang. "Time to party."

"Did you really invite others? You didn't have to do that, Dean," Cas said, following him to the foyer.

"Stow it, Cas. Jo and Ash make it a party." He opened the door and grinned. "And they brought Tessa. Awesome."

"And pizza. Respect the pizza," Ash said. He raised several boxes of pizza high above his head.

"Hey, Cas. Happy birthday." Jo kissed his cheek.

Dean watched as Cas's lips turned up in a small, pleased smile when Tessa repeated the gesture. "Thank you," he said, sounding more shy than Dean had ever heard him before. Though Cas hid it well, Dean knew the way the other kids typically stayed away from him at school hurt.

"Get away from the bar, Winchester. Let me make the drinks," Jo said, giving Dean a playful shove when he tried to reach for the alcohol.

"Me and Jo are going to open up our own bar one day," Ash told Cas. "It's going to rock."

"What'll it be, birthday boy?" Jo asked Cas.

"Um, er… I wouldn't know."

Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder. "This dude's pure as the driven snow. First time, Cas? Really?"

"I've had a little wine."

"Communion wine?" Tessa asked.

Cas blinked. "We're not Catholic."

Jo shook her head. "Shots then. Definitely shots."

"I don't know…"

Dean bumped Cas's shoulder with his own. "Don't worry, Cas. You're in good hands here."

Ten minutes and three shots later, Cas still hadn't loosened up any. He smacked his lips and tilted his head thoughtfully after he shot back the third one. "I think I'm starting to feel something."

Tessa laughed. "He's a natural."

"All right, all right. Jo, give him a mixed drink." He turned to Cas and wagged a finger in his face. "Don't overdo it. You get cocky, it'll hit you like a ton of bricks."

_**~0~**_

Tessa trying to teach Cas to dance was hilarious. Even loosened up by too much alcohol and good company, his movements were stiff.

Jo grabbed Dean's hand and hauled him up. "Come on, stud. You get to dance too."

"What about Ash?" Dean pretended to whine, but he let Jo pull him up.

"Ash is providing tuneage," Ash said, holding his drink aloft.

"Yeah, see? Plus no one wants to dance with him."

"Pffft." Ash shook his head. "Odd man out again? I'm cool with it."

They were all well past tipsy, so it was easy to get into the groove. Dean showed off his "sweet moves" and flipped everyone off when they laughed at him.

"That's like… the shuffle except worse," Jo said, giggling. She grabbed him, her hands to his waist and swayed her body with his. "Like this, you big dork."

Dean had had a crush on Jo since they were both fourteen years old. How many times had he imagined being able to touch her this way. She'd shot him down more than once, so his imagination was all he had. But as she guided his hands to her waist, Dean realized with a start it had been a long time since he'd thought of her that way. "Huh."

"What?" she asked as she looped her arms around his neck.

He smirked at her more out of habit than anything else. "Nothing. You look good tonight."

"I always look good." She wagged a finger in his face. "Don't get any ideas, Winchester. I just want to dance tonight and Tessa was already dancing with Cas."

"Ideas? What ideas. I have no ideas." He got his hands firm against her back before he dipped her just to see if he could make her squeal. Mission accomplished. She laughed.

"Oh, God," she murmured when he straightened her again. "I'm dizzy." She leaned against him as they swayed drunkenly. She giggled. Dean giggled.

They were drunk. And happy. Drunk and happy.

Dean tilted his head to the side to see how Cas was doing. Cas had relocated to the couch and he was watching Jo and Dean. His eyes were bleary, his face red. Dean couldn't read his expression. Then again, he doubted he could have read a billboard at that point. Tessa was over talking to Ash, and that made Dean sad. No one should be alone on their birthday.

"Imma say hello to Cas," he said.

Jo thought it was a hilarious idea. "Oh, sure. Tell him long time no see."

Dean put his hands on her shoulders until he was sure she was steady enough to stand without assistance. He knew from experience Jo had a high alcohol tolerance, but they had all indulged. When he was sure she was fine, he stumbled in Cas's direction and flopped down on the couch beside him.

"Hello, Dean," Cas said. His gaze lingered on Jo for a few more seconds before he turned to Dean.

For some reason, the idea Cas was attracted to Jo made Dean's heart twist. He felt possessive. Of what, he wondered. That made no sense. He had no claim to Jo at all and as he'd just noted, his crush had faded who knew how long ago. Besides that, he'd been thinking about what Cas said at Thanksgiving, how he hadn't really thought about whether or not he liked boys that way. It sounded like he hadn't thought about other people that way at all, and Dean wasn't sure he understood that.

He cleared his throat and elbowed Cas to get his attention even though his friend was looking right at him. "Jo's gorgeous, right?"

Cas's brows furrowed. He looked back at Jo as if he hadn't noticed before and back. "She's attractive."

Dean grunted. "We're not together, you know. Me and her. We've been friends since we were tiny. It'd be like dating my sister." He hadn't always thought so, but as he said the words, they rang true.

"Oh?" Cas looked perplexed, and Dean rolled his eyes. He cupped Cas's cheek, giving his silly head a shake. He would have to spell it out, apparently.

"Yeah. In case you want to make a move, genius."

Cas just stared at him. "I don't want to make a move." He looked down at the glass in his hands.

Dean looked around to make sure the others weren't nearby. He shifted closer to Cas so he could speak near his ear. "You honestly never thought about girls… or boys? You know. Whatever. Ash is single too."

"No, I haven't thought about it," Cas said too quickly. He seemed flushed, but then that could have been the alcohol.

"Why not?"

Cas shot the rest of his drink back in one big gulp, wincing as he did. He didn't look at Dean but down at the glass as he passed it from hand to hand. "Lust is sinful," he said after a long minute. "It's a distraction."

"Hey, man. We're all only human. Being distracted can be really good." He heard Cas take a sharp breath, and only then did Dean realize he had rested his hand on his friend's thigh. He quickly yanked his hand back. "I can't believe you've never been distracted before."

He thought Cas wasn't going to answer. His friend blinked, looking sleepy, and after a few quiet moments he slumped over. His head lolled on Dean's shoulder.

"Uh yeah. I agree with the birthday boy," Tessa said. She threw herself down on the loveseat and curled up. "Imma pass out."

Ash waved at Dean. "I'll take care of the girls, dude. You get to take care of Cas. He's most likely to be sick."

"I'm fine," Cas mumbled. His lips tickled Dean's neck.

"And I can take care of myself, thanks," Jo said with a yawn. "I call Sam's room."

"Come on, Cas." Dean maneuvered Cas's arm over his shoulder and held him around his waist. "Hang on to me. Whoa." Dean stumbled as he tried to straighten out.

"You sure you got it?" Jo watched them with amusement.

"Yeah, yeah. It's all good."

"Goodnight. Happy birthday, Cas."

"I believe it's well past midnight, but thank you."

With Cas leaning on him, making it up the stairs was a challenge, but Dean managed. Too tired to figure anything else out, he led Cas to his bed and then flopped down beside him, exhausted.

"Hey, Dean. I have been," Cas said. His eyes were closed. He was already mostly asleep.

"You have been what?"

"Distracted."

There was a knot in Dean's throat he couldn't explain. "Oh yeah? By who? You should tell me. I'm good at charming the ladies. Or dudes. I bet it would work on dudes too."

But Cas was already asleep.

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to barburella and songster.**


	11. The Morning After

**A/N: How is everyone? Sorry for the delay! Omg, loving the season so far. Pretty sure I'm going to die tonight, but enough about that. Onwards!**

* * *

Cas's mouth had never been so dry. His head didn't ache, but his body was lethargic. His stomach wasn't quite right. At first, he thought the low rumble he heard was his stomach talking, but then he heard his name. He opened his eyes and blinked.

Dean's bed. He was in Dean's bed. With Dean.

His friend's mouth was open, his breaths were even in sleep. His lips were so plump. Cas remembered quite vividly the feel of them moving with his. The memory was warm. He was warm. His brain hadn't caught up with him yet. It left him in a peaceful place where he could admire without being guilty or conflicted.

Dean was very beautiful. Cas was sure he wouldn't appreciate being called such, but beauty was the word that came to mind when he allowed himself to truly look on his friend. His face was pleasing to Cas; he didn't know any other way to phrase it. He didn't know if it was the symmetry or it was just the fact Dean had become very dear to him. He knew he liked Dean's freckles and the green of his eyes and his lips. He did like his lips. Beyond the kissing thing, Cas liked how expressive they could be. Or now, he liked the way they pouted as he sighed in his sleep, making those rumbling noises that Cas had heard earlier.

"Cas," Dean said his name so tenderly, Cas's breath caught. His friend mumbled his name again in his sleep. Was Dean dreaming of him, or did his idle mind understand Cas was there beside him?

Whatever the case, Cas discovered his already poor teenage impulse control was non-existent after a night of drinking. The thought he wanted to run his fingers through Dean's hair had only just crossed his mind before he was doing it. It was ironic, he thought. His inhibitions were supposed to be lowered when he drank, but he'd had enough sense then not to touch Dean like this. He'd wanted to. He'd wanted very much to touch him, but he knew it wouldn't go over well. Yet here he was, not drunk, and not thinking clearly at all.

Dean's eyelashes fluttered open and Cas's fingers stopped cold. He held his breath. Dean's eyes didn't focus. He smiled and to Cas's shock, his hand came up around his waist. "Cas," he mumbled again and snuggled closer. He pressed a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss against Cas's lips before his eyes closed again and his breath evened out.

For a long while, Cas didn't move. He couldn't tell if this was reality. Dean's lips were soft against his skin. His breath was hot and smelled less than pleasant. His body curved around Cas's. It was nice. Good. It only took Cas a few moments to decide he didn't care about whether or not this was reality. He liked it. He shifted, and when he moved, so did Dean. They both moved until Dean's head was tucked under Cas's, his arm snug around him. Content, Cas drifted back to sleep.

_**~0~**_

The first thing Dean was aware of was someone giggling. No. Not someone. Someones. The next thing he was aware of was that he was hot. Not attractive hot, though that was true enough. He was fires of hell hot. He was sweating.

"Did you get a good one?"

"A good _one_? I'm going to run out of memory on my phone."

More giggles.

"Oh, man. This is fucking priceless. Dean Winchester, you are so my bitch."

Dean's eyes snapped open. He was confused, at first, at what he was looking at. Then his body jolted when he realized he was staring at someone's chest. He tilted his head up. Cas. He was staring at Cas's chest. And he was burning hot because they were curled up together under the blankets. Not just huddled for warmth together, they were entangled. It was more than just Cas's arms around him and his arm slung over his friend's torso. Even their legs overlapped. And… well, certain other parts he didn't want to think about. "Son of a bitch."

He scrambled backward, ignoring Cas's grunt of surprise. He pushed himself up on his arms and stared in horror at the smirking faces of Jo and Tessa. "Smile," Jo said in a sing-song voice as she raised her phone to snap another picture.

Dean lunged for the phone, but Jo was too fast. He ended up in a heap on the floor. "Jo."

"Didn't mean to wake you, Dean-o. You looked so comfortable there. So." She looked over at Cas. "When are you going to make an honest man out of our boy here?"

"I, er…" Cas stumbled.

"Come off it, Jo. Erase those damn pictures."

"Oh, not on your life, Winchester."

"Jo!"

"Relax, Dean," Tessa said, stepping between him and Jo. She grinned. "You and Cas make a cute couple. Congratulations."

"If I see those pictures anywhere…"

"Oh, shut up, Dean. You know I'm not that kind of girl," Jo said. "This is for personal entertainment only. And you owe me, if you want to keep it out of Sam's hands."

"You'd better not."

"Don't be such a dick, Dean," Tessa said. "You're hurting Cas's feelings."

"My feelings are fine," Cas said.

Even in his panic, Dean could tell his friend's voice was flatter than usual. He glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, Cas was sitting up, looking not at him, but at his comforter. "Son of a bitch," Dean said again. "Goddammit, my head hurts."

"Well, that's what we came up here for. There's Advil and water for both of you right there." Jo nodded at his desk. "We'll give you boys time to finish up."

The girls' giggling was clear through the door even after they closed it.

"Son of a bitch." Dean sat heavily on the edge of the bed, hanging his throbbing head in his hands.

"So you've said." Cas took a deep breath. "Dean, I don't know how-"

"You were drunk. I was drunk. It's fine. It's all fine. The girls know that. It's fine."

"Now we forget it ever happened."

Dean tilted his head and looked at his friend. Cas was staring again. His head was tilted down, but his eyes were on Dean. The air in the room felt thicker, full of static, and Dean didn't know why.

The same way it had felt when Dean kissed Cas. He hadn't forgotten. He thought about it too often to forget.

"Cas-"

"I'm having a craving. For hamburger and that spaghetti you made."

Dean had to laugh. "Grease and starch. Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Come on, Cas. We got ramen and bacon downstairs. We'll feel better then."

_**~0~**_

Cas was distracted. And confused. He remembered waking up earlier that morning to find Dean so close. Again, it was Dean who kissed him. Of course Cas was well aware Dean had been mostly asleep when he did it, but still, his subconscious had most certainly realized it was him. Dean said his name so many times, he had to know it was him.

Was he missing something? Cas was clueless when it came to the ins and outs of relationships and attraction. Attending school for the first time was an interesting experience. It seemed to come so easily to everyone else, but Cas was lost. A number of times, girls had attempted to flirt with him. He only knew because after they had wandered away with dejected looks on their faces, Dean or Jo would tell him he was an idiot. They'd always said it in good humor, so Cas hadn't taken them or the girls' intentions too seriously.

That was another thing. Most of the flirting, attraction, and whatever else masqueraded as love amongst high schoolers seemed ridiculous. It made his fellow students silly. And melodramatic.

Yet, for all their silliness, Cas found himself falling into the same patterns he'd seen over and over again in his classmates. That morning, in a room full of friends, his eyes were stuck on Dean. He watched the way he interacted with Tessa, Jo, and Ash. Cas had eyes. Tessa and Jo were attractive women, and Dean, as he had stated multiple times, was attracted to girls. Yet they were girls who were his friends. He shoulder bumped them, laughed with them, joked.

The way he touched and looked at Cas was different.

Or was it? Was it Cas's imagination?

Cas raked his hand over his eyes. Stupid. He was being stupid. He resented it. In his life, he'd felt many things, but stupid was not one of them.

A warm touch on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts. "Hey, Cas." Dean leaned in close so he could put a plate of his promised greasy breakfast in front of him. He grinned. "Eat up."

Cas's skin tingled where Dean had touched him. His cheeks burned hot, a fire that shot through his body and settled right at his groin. He swallowed a groan as he shifted in his chair, self-conscious as though his friends could read his mind. He kept replaying his family and faith's lectures on the distraction of lust.

Lust. They always made it sound so vile, but the experience of it was quite different. Though Cas ducked his head and tried to concentrate on his food, he couldn't help but be aware of Dean. Someone had turned the heat up, and Dean was walking around in sweatpants and a gray shirt that hugged his lean form. He grabbed the orange juice from Ash and drank straight from the carton, waggling his eyebrows as Jo told him he was an asshole. Cas stared at his neck and wondered if his skin there tasted different than his lips.

Cas shook his head hard. What in the hell was wrong with him? It didn't matter that Dean confused him. Dean had repeatedly said it wasn't what he wanted, Cas wasn't what he wanted. And Cas shouldn't want him. It was…

No. It didn't feel wrong. It felt anything but wrong. Torturous at times, like then when he couldn't stop thinking about his friend- but not wrong.

Tessa snapped her fingers in front of Cas's face and he jumped. "What?"

She laughed. "Man. You're out of it. Are you feeling okay?"

"Fine. Thank you."

"You hold your liquor pretty well. I'm impressed," Jo said.

Dean clapped Cas on the back as he sat down in the chair kitty corner from him. "Course he does. Cas is tough for a little nerdy guy."

"I asked if you'd heard back from any of your colleges yet," Tessa said.

"Oh. No, not yet."

"Where did you apply?"

Cas felt guilt and irritation on the heels of that. For his friends, it was such a simple question. "NAU, of course. And a few other places. California, mostly." Though it was ridiculous, he tensed, waiting for his friends' condemnation.

"Ah, California. Who doesn't want to move to California? What's wrong with Phoenix?" Jo asked.

"What's wrong with NAU?" Ash said. "Everyone always wants to leave. I like Flagstaff."

"Don't worry, Ash. NAU is the only place I applied," Dean said. His tone was light, but when Cas looked up at him, he could see the tightness around Dean's eyes. "Not like I could afford anyplace else even if I did get in."

"Plus I'm pretty sure your dad and your brother would kill each other."

Dean made a face, but he didn't argue. Cas's was disgruntled at the idea Dean would limit himself for his brother's sake. He wanted to argue, but was he any better? Yes, he'd applied beyond NAU, but he knew in his heart of hearts he would be unable to walk away from his family. Leave Samandriel with Raphael? That didn't bode well at all, no matter what Samandriel said.

The conversation moved on before Cas could formulate an argument.

By the time John and Sam came back, everyone was in a suitable condition to go back home to their parents. Cas collected hugs from the girls and Ash. They also each put a flash drive in his hand.

"_Dead Like Me_. _Sherlock_. _Firefly _are all on there," Tessa said. "The essentials."

"Books?" Cas was confused.

She ruffled his hair. "Shows. Educate yourself."

"Classic Star Trek. New Star Trek. All the Marvel movies," Ash said.

Jo winked. "Porn. Lots of porn." She laughed when Cas did a double take to see if she was serious. "And books. Vonnegut. Palahniuk. Oh, and _The Fault In Our Stars_, because everyone should read that."

"Vonnegut and Palahniuk. Can't argue with that. Just be careful with that other one, Cas. I don't know what it is, but Jo throws in a genuine chick flick every now and again," Dean said. "Come on. I'll take you home."

It was only later when he was alone in his room that Cas realized he had a text from Jo. There were no words, no teasing despite the image attached. It was the picture from that morning: Dean and Cas fast asleep, clinging to each other.

Cas stared at the picture for a long time.

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to barburella, jfka06 and songster.**

**Well. What are you thinking, hmm?**


End file.
